Procreate
by katyastark
Summary: When he sees him again, he's a bit stunned. Not because Deku looks different. Not because he dresses better, or that he looks healthy and fit and happy. It's not even the slightest bit of fear he sees in his expression when their eyes meet, though that's just as out of place. No, it's the little boy on his hip with sharp green eyes and curly blonde hair.
1. Chapter 1

Katsuki hasn't seen Deku in years. He saw him once, by chance, at a grocery store or a farmer's market or something like that, maybe four years ago, but before that, he hadn't seen him since they left middle school. So, when he sees him again while patrolling on his usual route in the city proper, he's a little stunned. Not because Deku looks different—even though he does. Not because he dresses better, or that he looks healthy and fit and happy. It's not even the slightest bit of fear he sees in his expression when their eyes meet, though that's just as out of place—even when Katsuki was mean and violent and absolutely _ruthless,_ Deku never looked at him like that. No, it's nothing as simple as that. It's the little boy on his hip, a toddler with skinned knees and a smattering of freckles, curly blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He looks like—

No, Katsuki won't let himself finish that thought.

"Deku?" It's all he can say, really. He feels off-kilter, entirely unmoored by another chance meeting with the boy of his childhood memories, now a man with a life flourishing separate from Katsuki—and a whole ass _child._

"Hi, Kacchan," he says, and he blatantly shifts in a way that blocks his kid from Katsuki's line of sight, like he's expecting him to blow them up. Rage builds, just a bit, in his gut. He's a damn _hero. _Deku has nothing to be afraid of.

And yet—

Katsuki pushes away thoughts of the past. Thoughts of careless explosions and exposed, freckled skin and tattered fabric, of teary eyes and burning paper.

"Papa, what's a Kacchan?" The little boy speaks, peeking around Deku's shoulder to stare at him, breaking the tense silence. When his luminous green eyes meet Katsuki's he gasps. "Ground Zero!"

Katsuki is struck by the kid's resemblance to Deku, and the fact that the little gremlin called him _papa._ Katsuki doesn't know what kind of future he expected Deku to have—he never thought too hard on it past _not a hero, never a hero—_but fatherhood wasn't part of that picture. The idea of Quirkless Deku even losing his virginity was a wild fucking concept to Katsuki.

The thing—_kid, child, tiny human being—_squirms in Deku's hold until he has no choice but to put him down, and Deku's progeny sidles up to him, yanking on the pants of his hero suit and staring up at him with no regard for Katsuki's reputation as a prickly, no nonsense hero.

"You're Ground Zero," the kid says. "You know my papa?"

Deku stands stock still for about a second before he's scrambling after his kid in an attempt to detach him from Katsuki's pants.

"Hisami, what did I say about grabbing people?" Deku says, only a bit frantic.

"Something about _boundaries,"_ he answers, saying the word slowly, like he doesn't know what it means.

Katsuki is silent for the entire exchange, and the subsequent fight to loosen the kid's grasp in his pants. He shakes himself out of his uncharacteristic silence soon after the grubby hand around the leg of his pants is secured tightly in his father's hand.

"You have a kid? How the f—"

"_Language!" _The kid, he thinks Deku called him Hisami, shrieks. Deku smirks at that, paying no mind to Katsuki's apprising eye as he looks fondly at his son.

"I'm Midoriya Hisami! My papa doesn't like you!"

"Hisami!" Deku balks and snatches his kid up in his arms again. Hisami is ballsy enough to giggle at his father's bewildered tone.

"I—we have to go," he says, power walking away from Katsuki, who's still so shocked by the entire exchange that he doesn't even have the wherewithal to go after him.

—

Katsuki hasn't been able to stop thinking about the events of last week. He wouldn't say he's obsessing, or anything like that, but he has spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about Deku and that kid. He suffers with these thoughts in silence. He couldn't exactly ring up Kirishima and explain that a ten minute conversation with a toddler has managed to occupy his thoughts for a full week. It's not until he visits his parents that he allows himself to talk about it.

"You still keep up with the Midoriya's?" Katsuki blurts out as his mom serves afternoon tea. His parents give him identical confused looks, but don't say anything until his mom is comfortably sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in her hands.

"A bit. Inko moved out of that apartment and into a house a bit closer to us, so I see her every now and then. Lunches and things like that," she says. Katsuki notices the way she doesn't prompt him for a reason _why_ he's asking. His dad sips his tea to avoid speaking, as he often does.

"What about Deku?"

"What about him?"

"What's he doing these days?" Katsuki asks, trying to be casual. He gulps down some tea in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

"I thought you weren't friend anymore?"

Katsuki does his best not to audibly grumble. She never makes anything easy for him.

"I ran into him last week. He has a—" The word gets caught in his throat for some reason.

"Son? We know," his mom says, and his dad finally speaks up, a small smile on his face, "He's a darling."

"You've met it?"

"Him. He's a child, Katsuki, not a fucking hamster." She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever," he says, eager to get to the details. "How the hell did that happen?"

"Katsuki… you're twenty-eight. You should know how that works by now," his dad says, tittering lightly around his mug. Katsuki narrows his eyes at him. His father is a good natured, calm man, but he rarely makes jokes. Katsuki does not appreciate his attempts at levity at the moment.

"I know how it fucking works!" Katsuki screeches, feeling hot and embarrassed. "I mean, how—_who—_why does Deku have a fucking child?"

He's never been all that great at expressing himself, but he thinks this might be an all time low for him, personally. He doesn't know how to articulate his shock and awe at the concept of Deku being responsible enough to have a child, let alone social enough to father one. He feels like he needs a step by step analysis of how this came to be.

"I don't know what you're getting at, or why you seem so distraught, but if you're really so curious we're meeting them for lunch next week. Would you like to come and babble there?"

"Honestly, I think Hisami is more articulate than you sometimes."

The fact that his parents are so casually talking about the existence of the tiny human he briefly met a week ago baffles him.

"So, Deku has a fucking _baby,_ and no one thought to tell me about it?" He's more angry than he should be about it, more angry than he really has a right to be. He made peace with his regret over everything he put Deku through because of his own insecurities a long time ago. He never apologized, but he also never thought about seeing him again in concrete terms. He's fine leaving Deku in the past, in a limbo of regret and denial.

"He's three. Why are you having a fit about this?"

"Because," he starts, but he has nowhere to take than sentence, nothing to say to make it make any kind of sense. Katsuki doesn't even know why, except for the fact that something this big happening to someone his family has known forever shouldn't have flown under his radar. He feels like he's missing out on something.

And… and what?

What about that kid is so unnerving to Katsuki that he can't stop thinking about him?


	2. Chapter 2

Katsuki sits at the table in a familiar family restaurant not far from his parents' house. He has vivid memories of dining here with the Midoriya family many times, both when he was an excited participant and a surly prisoner of obligation. His dad sits on his left side and his mom takes a seat across the table. No one speaks until Midoriya Inko bustles in, a brightly colored baby bag and an excitable toddler in tow. She sets up a plastic booster chair in the seat across from Katsuki and lifts the squirming toddler into it. Katsuki grimaces at the little thing.

His only experience with children comes from fan engagements, unavoidable rescues, and his few interactions with the Todoroki twins. The most he can say about children are that they are always invariably sticky, they often smell weird—like Playdoh and baby powder, specifically—and they have no fucking sense of decorum. It becomes clear that this kid is no exception when he bolts from his booster chair, climbs on the table, and takes Katsuki's face in his filthy, chubby hands.

"Mr. Kacchan! Your hair looks like a 'splosion!"

Katsuki grunts in distaste, sitting back in his chair to escape his little hands.

"Hisami! What would papa say about you climbing on the table?" Inko, flustered and red, wraps an arm around her ill-behaved grandson and plops his toddler butt in the booster chair again. Hisami holds his freckled cheeks, as if he knows it makes him appear cute, and says, "Papa would say, _I love you, Button, _because I'm cute."

"Damn cute," his mom says, looking nauseatingly soft, and then she turns her gaze on Katsuki, hardening into a glare in three seconds flat. "When the fuck am I gonna get a grandkid out of you?"

"Language," both Inko and Hisami say, chastising.

Katsuki resists the urge to tear at his hair and say _I'm fucking gay, Mom_ because now is neither the time nor place for that argument. Inko bails him out of having to answer.

"It's been a long time, Katsuki. I hear you've met Hisami already."

He nods. He's always liked Inko. She's everything a mom ought to be—soft, caring, understanding.

"Briefly. On patrol. What was Deku doing downtown?"

"His clinic is there. He moved downtown a few years ago to be closer."

Before Katsuki can ask about Deku's clinic, the damn kid interrupts.

"Obaasan, what's _clinic?"_

"Papa's work," she says patiently.

"He—"

"Sorry, I'm late!" Deku appears and throws himself in the chair between his mother and his son. When he makes eye contact with Katsuki, his eyes bug out twice as wide and his mouth hangs open, totally mute. Katsuki tries not to sneer—he's better than that now, but Deku provokes a response so ingrained in him from childhood, it's hard to think twice about it.

"Papa!" Hisami beams, clutching the arm of Deku's sweater.

"Hi, Button," he murmurs sweetly. "Did you have a good day?"

"The best! Obaasan let me play with stickers! I decorated the bathroom."

"Oh, no. Sorry, Mom."

Katsuki observes all of this with a vague sense of wonder. How anyone can be so taken in by a three year old befuddles him. They all sit in rapt attention while a toddler holds court from a booster seat. It's disgustingly domestic. Katsuki's can't imagine why people willingly choose this kind of life. Deku's eyes keep landing on him and darting quickly away, and it chafes at Katsuki's nerves.

"So, Deku," Katsuki says, totally done listening to the highlight of a toddler's day. He didn't come here for no reason.

"What's _Deku? _My papa's name is Izuku!"

"Hisami, inside voice, please."

"Sorry, Papa," he says, making his voice a tiny whisper, his hands cupped around his little mouth. He smiles at him, and reaches behind him for something. He procures a notebook—just like the ones Deku used to carry around in school—and a small pack of crayons. Hisami is immediately cowed, turned into some peaceable, quiet child, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he scribbled with an orange crayon, his nose damn near pressed to the paper.

"How've you been, Kacchan?" Deku asks, finally diverting his attention away from his kid, who is admittedly, a bit cute when he's not speaking at obscene volumes or touching Katsuki.

"Busy. Pushing for number one, as always," he says, puffing his chest out.

"I'm sure you'll get there," Deku says, politely, but without the sense of worship he had for Katsuki when they were younger.

"What about you? Your mom was saying you work at a clinic."

Deku looks tense again, the line of his shoulders rigid. He nods, a bit erratically. He _mhmm's_ and changes the subject.

"You don't want to hear about all that, though."

"Why wouldn't he? You do important work, honey!"

Deku grimaces at his mom's praise. His parents decide to jump in.

"Your Quirk may as well be magic," his dad says, and Katsuki all but has an aneurysm. Deku doesn't have a Quirk.

"You wouldn't have Hisami without it. You're a miracle worker."

"I'm a miracle," Hisami mumbles, like he's heard it a million times before in the span of his short life, a green crayon in his clutches.

"What are you on about? You have a Quirk?"

"Papa's Quirk makes babies."

Katsuki chokes on his own spit. "_Hah?"_

Deku puts his face in his hands, a heavy sigh blowing out of him. Katsuki can't fathom why words like _magic Quirk_ and _miracle worker_ would elicit a response like that from him. Deku raises his head from his hands, levels Katsuki with a deadpan stare, and lays it all out.

"My Quirk came when I was six. It's a potent fertility Quirk, called Procreate. I was registered as Quirkless because it's incredibly dangerous in irresponsible hands. I can make biological children with any two human beings, regardless of sex. I run a clinic, we specialize in IVF and surrogacy, and we employ OB/GYNs in house. I'm licensed to use my Quirk on consenting couples. Now, can we please stop talking about work?"

Katsuki raises an eyebrow at the info dump, and the tension with which he spoke. Deku's always been weird and jumpy, but his behavior is something Katsuki's never seen on him before. He's not sure if it's leftover weirdness from their turbulent teenage years, or if Deku is just a loon—there's a high possibility that it's both. Still, his line of work seems impressive, and successful. He looks at Hisami again, wondering who the hell his other parent could be. Someone blonde, clearly.

The waiter finally arrives to put them all out of their misery, and Katsuki thinks he hears Deku mutter a _thank Christ_ around a deep sigh. They put in their orders, and Katsuki snorts when both Deku and Hisami ask for katsudon.

"Make sure his has a lot of kick to it, please. He won't eat it if it's not spicy," Deku says to the waiter. He looks mildly horrified at the idea of serving "level three" spices to a damn baby in a booster chair, but they reluctantly comply. It takes him back to the days when his mom had to verbally abuse the wait staff to get his ramen hot enough to make him sweat. He smiles just a little, seeing a bit of himself in the kid.

Hisami tugs on his dad's sweater and beckons him closer to whisper in his ear. Izuku nods, and pushed out his chair.

"Excuse us," he says, putting Hisami on the ground so they can totter away to the bathroom. With Deku and the kid gone, Katsuki's feels just a bit more relaxed. The rest of the table seems to feel similarly.

"Is Izuku alright?" Masaru hedges, always the most in tune with sensing awkward tension.

"I don't know, but I'm almost positive it's Katsuki's fault," his mom says around the straw in her drink.

"Oi!" He bellows, but on some level, he knows she's absolutely right. He thinks that this was a terrible idea, and he isn't entirely sure why he went through with it in the first place, other than a sick sense of morbid curiosity.

—

"Papa, are you mad at me because I climbed on the table?" Hisami asks while they dry their hands in the restroom.

"You _what?"_

"I'm sorry, Papa. Please don't be mad at me anymore," he says, holding his damp hands up in the universal sign for _pick me up._ He obliges.

"I'm not mad, Button." Izuku kisses Hisami's curly, blond head, feeling guilty that his turbulent feelings made his son worry.

"Are you mad at Mr. Kacchan?"

"Not exactly, but it makes me feel icky seeing him."

"Icky! No, Papa, don't feel icky." Hisami wraps his little arms entirely around Izuku's head in an attempt to make him feel better. It helps, actually. His son is the steadiest, most constant thing in his life—and isn't that sad?

"Alright, Button, let's go eat dinner," he says, disentangling himself from his cuddle bug to put him back on solid ground. They leave the bathroom hand in hand, Izuku walking slowly to compensate for his son's tiny legs. When they arrive back at the table, Hisami decides to act up, flinging Izuku's band away and dramatically placing the back of his hand over his forehead, like some swooning silver screen starlet.

"Oh, Papa, I'm sick!" Hisami collapses on the ground, in the middle of the restaurant, and Izuku has to do his damndest not to laugh and egg him on. Hisami is clearly trying to give him an out, and his heart warms at the thought. He's too perceptive for his age. Izuku kneels on the ground in front of his prone child.

"Sick, huh? Too sick for spicy katsudon?"

Hisami stiffens. He clearly hadn't thought through the implications of faking sick to get out of dinner.

"I'm okay, now, Papa," he whispers.

"That's what I thought." Izuku laughs and picks his ridiculous son up off the floor. "No more soap operas with Obaasan."

Kacchan watched the entire display with a look of incredulity, but he cracked a smile when he saw the sheepish look on Hisami's face. He barks out a laugh that seems to surprise even him, and… Izuku doesn't know how to feel about that.

It hurts more than it should. It makes his guts swirl with a heady mix of regret and guilt. The weight of a secret presses on his chest. The only thing worse than keeping it from him, was owning up to it.


	3. Chapter 3

"When it comes down to it, the process is like any traditional pregnancy. There's still a nine month wait, live birth, all that. So, clearly we'll have to talk about surrogacy."

The male couple sitting on the other side of Izuku's desk are doing a valiant job of not looking at Izuku like he is a wish-granting genie, or a sympathetic god. Still, they have that wide-eyed, wet look about them. That look embarrasses him a bit, but he loves what he does.

"We usually recommend matching up with one of our surrogates, but if you're sentimental about a friend of yours carrying for you, that's all well and good. We do our best to support you every step of the way, in all the ways you're comfortable with. Do you have any questions before we discuss your options a bit more?"

Whenever Izuku does these consultations, there's always a long pause between his question and the inevitable realization that the impossible just became very feasible.

"So, the baby would be biologically ours?"

Izuku nods, a small smile beginning to curl the corners of his mouth. That always seems to be the first question.

"What's the success rate?"

"One hundred percent, thus far. It's not like IVF, there's no hit or miss, or waiting games. I don't have any control over gene expression or anything like that, so complications can arise after the fertilization takes, just like any other pregnancy, but the act itself is very simple. It's a Quirk, and like any Quirk, it seems to defy all logic and sense, but it works," Izuku says, shrugging good naturedly.

"And...pricing," the older man hedges, his brow creasing just a bit. His partner rubs a soothing circle into the back of his hand with his thumb. They're both impeccably dressed, and most couples don't even come in for a consultation if they're not ready to spend—unfortunately, these procedures are known to be expensive, but Izuku does his best not to price gouge. Still, he's got bills to pay and a little mouth to feed.

"It's about the same as a round of IVF, and typical surrogacy fees cover living and medical expenses, should you choose to do it."

Izuku pulls out a laminated sheet with their typical price estimates. It highlights what's eligible to be covered by insurance, what federal funding and interest group donations cover, and a detailed list of all the "in-house" perks. It's still expensive, but it's a reality Izuku came to terms with long ago.

"I'll leave you to discuss your options for a few minutes," he says, standing. He excuses himself to let them decide. He goes to the break room and pours himself another cup of coffee. This is his fourth cup today. Hisami was a nightmare at bedtime, and Izuku's lingering guilt about seeing Kacchan again—about Kacchan meeting Hisami—kept him up all night. That was _never _supposed to happen. He knew, statistically, that running into him again was a possibility, but he never expected Kacchan to willingly speak to him, to sit across from his son at a dinner table and speak to them. It's...concerning.

The worst thing about it is that he genuinely wouldn't mind reconnecting with Kacchan again, if not for the giant complication his son's very existence presents. Their shattered friendship has always bothered him, but now, things were _exceptionally_ complicated. It's entirely Izuku's fault that things were too complicated to salvage even a cordial acquaintanceship with his childhood friend, and that burns him up inside.

Bakugo Katsuki is Hisami's biological father, and he doesn't know, and the thought of him finding out feels like the absolute worst thing that could happen. Like, epically bad—nuclear fallout bad, down in the history books _bad_. And it could've been avoided if Izuku wasn't so stupid.

He'd like to say he suffered some break from reality when he made the decision to use his Quirk on his childhood friend, but that would make him a liar, as well as a despicable human being. The truth is that Izuku had been looking for, for lack of a better term, donors for a long time before a chance meeting prompted him to make a foolishly selfish decision.

He was lonely, and as crazy as it sounds, having a child was far easier for him than wading into the dating pool. And all of a sudden, Kacchan was standing in front of him looking just as powerful and confident as he does on TV, and Izuku just wanted a piece of that—a tiny, newborn sized piece. He's not dumb enough to deny the fact that a deeply buried crush and unresolved feelings factored heavily into his decision to Procreate with his childhood friend, and he had just enough self-preservation and common sense to _know_ he was making a grave mistake even as it was happening, as he brushed by too close to Kacchan and he felt the warm little feeling of _life_ his Quirk creates nestling itself in his heart.

He signed a contract with one of the clinic's surrogates that same day, and for nine months he beat himself up for it, agonized over his mistake, lost hours of sleep and ran himself into the ground as a distraction. But when Hisami was born and he held him for the first time, all that guilt melted away in the face of his beautiful, perfect son. As Hisami grew, the events that led to his existence started to seem more like a happy accident, a fluke, a little nudge fate gave him to secure something amazing.

Lately, though, now that he's spent more than a minute in Kacchan's company, Hisami's striking similarities to him stood out. He's only three, but he's got so much personality already, and it's no exaggeration to say that he is almost a perfect blend of both Izuku's and Kacchan's weird little oddities that make them who they are.

Genetics are a funny thing. Izuku used to think Hisami only got the blonde hair from Kacchan, but the more he looked, the more he looked like him every day. They have the same nose, the same angry sneer when Hisami works himself up. Even his eyes have the same sharp tilt and shape as Kacchan.

If Izuku thinks about this too much more, it might drive him insane. He takes a deep breath, and heads back to his office. His life might be coming down in shambles, but he could at least make this couple happy.

Katsuki isn't used to feeling like something is eluding him. As a highly competitive person with above average intelligence, there's never been a mystery or a problem he couldn't solve or suss out. Still, when he looks at that kid, all he gets is a big, fat question mark. It's been two weeks since the world's most tense dinner, and he's no closer to getting it out of his head than he was the day it happened.

He was quick to get out of the restaurant as soon as the checks were passed around—he paid for everything because he has more money than he knows what to do with. He expected Deku to at least put up a fight about it, and it looked like he might for a moment. Katsuki watched him open his mouth, close it, and then say a tight, "Thanks, Kacchan."

Deku was just as quick to leave, hoisting that giant baby bag on his shoulder and tucking his babbling son like a football and practically running out of the establishment.

Unfortunately, they caught up to each other at the exit, awkwardly walking almost shoulder to shoulder through the double doors. Izuku tripped on _nothing_ because of course he would, and the damn baby bag went flying, exploding in a mess of sippy cups, pull ups, and—_unforgivably—_a Frostfire plushie.

"Fuck," Izuku hisses, his son still tucked sideways under his arm.

"Language!"

"Yeah, Button, you got me. Sorry," he says, puffing out a long sigh.

"Let me help," Katsuki mutters, gruff and uncomfortable.

"Just hold him for a second, please. He'll run away the second I put him down," Deku says, and immediately thrusts his child into Katsuki's haphazard arms. He's never held a child in his life, and he's immediately struck by an overwhelming sense of _panic_ that he couldn't describe if he tried. He grimaces, holding tiny Hisami under the armpits, keeping him as far away from his body as possible. Hisami stares at Katsuki with tight, distrustful eyes, and a familiar pout.

"You're icky," he whispers, eyes narrowing just a bit further. His angry, little expression might be comical if it wasn't creepily familiar in a way he can't pin down. It's something like the determined glare Deku used to give him when he was picking on other kids in school, or the terrifying scowl his mom would give him when he did something bratty in public.

"Icky," Katsuki says slowly, like it's a foreign word he can't quite define.

"The ickest! You're hurting my armpits," he whines, holding his grubby hands out like menacing little claws, opening and closing, as if to say, _hold me correctly, dumbass._ Katsuki frowns and puts the little gremlin on his hip while Deku meticulously packs the overstuffed baby bag.

Hisami and his short attention span have decided a subject change is in order.

"Icky-san, do you like puppies?" Hisami asks, patting Katsuki's cheek to draw his attention back to him.

"No," he mutters, willing Deku to hurry the fuck up.

"I _love _puppies. Papa says I can't have one because I'm '_lergic."_

It takes Katsuki a minute to figure out what the hell he said based on context clues. Baby talk is infuriating.

"I'm allergic to dogs, too."

In a fit of what he can only assume is sympathy, Hisami leans his head on Katsuki's shoulder and pats his chest.

"That's sad. I'm sad for you, Icky-san."

Deku makes a sound like a drowning cat, and shoots to a standing position, the baby bag zipped up again.

"Okay, all packed! Hisami, time to go."

Hisami lunges for Deku and he's readily received.

"Thanks, Kacchan. Bye!" He seems even more harried than before as he turns on his heel and power walks away—in the wrong direction of the train station, no less.

"See you around, Deku," he mutters, feeling oddly warm where Hisami rested on his hip just moments ago.

"Run, Papa! He's icky and he smells like burnt candy!"

"Hisami!"

Katsuki couldn't help but laugh at the kid's antics. He's ballsy and unapologetic, but still somehow _sweet._ He's got all the quiet gentleness of Deku while still having a spine.

There's something about that kid.


	4. Chapter 4

"Bro, you like puzzles right?"

Katsuki's brows draw together in confusion. He's been friends with Kirishima for over a decade and he still can't fathom what goes on in his spiky, confounding head.

"Get to the point, Shitty Hair." Katsuki crosses the street, heading for his apartment building, a sleek, luxury high rise in a quiet part of town. He just worked the morning shift, and he decided to forgo the agency showers for a long soak in his own tub. He'll be damned if Kirishima gets in the way of that.

"Mina bought this crib and there's so many pieces. My brain hurts and I don't understand the instructions."

"Isn't it a little soon to be building shit?"

Ashido couldn't be more that four months pregnant, if that. Why on earth were they needlessly ordering, unpacking, and building baby shit this early in the game?

"We're excited! All the baby books call it nesting. Mina wants everything ready as soon as possible, so we can just enjoy the experience," he says excitedly, like a giant puppy. Katsuki can practically hear his tail wagging on the other line.

"I can't imagine the two of you reading baby books," he says, hoping to distract Kirishima enough that he'll forget he asked him for help. There's a reluctant pause on the other line as Katsuki walks into the lobby. The doorman nods from behind the desk.

"We got the audiobook, so we could listen to it while we play video games," he admits.

"Now, that I can believe," Katsuki says, chuckling. "I'm about to get in the elevator, the call's probably going to drop."

"My elevator? Did you sprint here?"

"My elevator, dumbass. I just got off the clock."

"But you're going to come help me, right?" He sounds frazzled, and in the background he can almost hear Ashido yelling. There's a sound like the phone is shifting hands, and suddenly Ashido is assaulting his ears.

"Bakugo, if you don't come put this fucking crib together in the next thirty minutes, I'm going to hunt you down and use my pregnancy hormones as an excuse to get away with committing a crime."

"Christ, fine. Let me shower and I'll be over after."

"Shower here, and bring me some takoyaki from that food stall I like."

"You know, I'm not the one who knocked you up, so you can't fucking boss me around. I have rights."

"You have ten minutes," she says, and hangs up on him. Sometimes, Katsuki really regrets turning over that new, heroic leaf and making real friends who aren't terrified of him. Katsuki leaves his apartment building and heads for the food stall on the way to their apartment.

"Thank god," Kirishima says when he opens the door and ushers Katsuki in. The apartment looks like they looted an entire baby boutique, a pyramid of boxes sit in the corner, and it the middle of the extra bedroom—the new nursery—pieces of what he assumes is the crib are scattered all over the floor.

Ashido materializes behind him and snatches the greasy takoyaki from his hands before she deigns to greet him.

"Thanks, Baku. I'll name this little parasite after you." She manhandles him into a hug, resting her head on his shoulder briefly. It reminds him of Hisami.

"Don't name your alien spawn after me."

"Watch it, man. I've been having all these weird, fatherly feelings, lately, and if you insult my fetus again we might have to throw down," Kirishima says, waving the assembly instructions at him. Katsuki barks a laugh at that, but accepts the instruction booklet, and settles on the floor to get to work.

"So, what's new with you? I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

Katsuki grunts and shrugs while searching for the correct screws for the first part of the building process.

"Working. Saw my parents a few weeks back. We had dinner with some family friends." Katsuki is intentionally vague. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't still thinking about that dinner. Deku and his chaotic offspring find their way into his thoughts often.

"Family friend, huh? Is it _that _family friend?"

Katsuki grimaces. He'd spilled the beans about Deku to Kirishima in second year, right around the time Katsuki realized what an asshole he was. He did a lot of growing up that year, and Kirishima was always annoyingly supportive.

"Yeah, that one. He has a kid now, and it's…" he trails off, trying to find a way to say how he feels without sounding weak. "It's kind of fucking with my head."

Kirishima, who has been pretending to be helpful by occasionally moving pieces of the crib around on the floor, pauses. He gives Katsuki a questioning look.

"What's fucky about it?"

"Ugh. Rephrase that so you don't sound like a damn toddler."

"Why is it bothering you?"

Katsuki knows why it's bothering him—at least a little—but he doesn't know how to explain it to Kirishima. Katsuki knows he isn't entitled to information about Deku and his life, but that doesn't change the fact that he feels a bit blindsided by not knowing something so momentous about him, and that's before all the stuff about his Quirk. He feels left out, knowing his parents are intertwined in Deku's life, and he never knew it. It makes him wonder what other things he's missed out on over the years because he's been so consumed by his own goals.

"It's just… a big _thing._ His kid is weird, too, but in a not so horrible way. Makes me think of the way we were when we were that age. We were practically joined at the hip, and now…."

"Now, you both have two completely separate lives," Kirishima supplies, leaning back to rest on his hands.

"That's stupid."

"But it's true. You think it's because you feel responsible for the rift?"

Katsuki's thankful for the nails and screws and loose pieces of plastic he's putting together because it means he doesn't have to look at Kirishima. It's always easier to talk about himself when he has something to do. He gives a half-hearted shrug, which is just enough for Kirishima to take it as a reluctant affirmation.

"Well, maybe this is a chance to start over. Maybe finally apologize?"

The idea of apologizing to anyone makes something in Katsuki clench up with dread. The idea of apologizing to Deku—the one person in his life who probably deserves a heartfelt apology the most—makes Katsuki feel nauseous. Katsuki deflects.

"He runs a women's clinic, apparently. Gynos, IVF, and stuff. I guess he used a surrogate for his kid."

After a late night spent googling things like _Midoriya clinic Musutafu,_ he found that calling it a clinic was a bit misleading. It's basically a high-end baby factory that seems to cater to _very_ rich people. It's housed in a massive building with individual practices, labs, offices, and living spaces for their surrogates and on-call staff. It occurred to Katsuki that Deku must be fucking loaded—most likely not as loaded as he is, but very few people can match a top ten pro's salary.

"Mina and I are looking for a new OB. Maybe we can go through him?"

"It's your fetus. Do what you want," he mutters.

"I'm trying to give you an in. You get that, right?"

"I don't need an in, and I definitely don't need to be involved in your baby shit. This stupid crib is bad enough."

Kirishima laughs, rolling loose screws across the carpet. They, and by _they, _Katsuki means _he_ works in silence, getting the base of the crib built before Kirishima gives up all pretense of helping and pulls out is phone.

"What's his name again?" Kirishima asks, innocently enough. Katsuki eyes him suspiciously over the instruction manual.

"Midoriya Izuku," he says, knowing full well that Kirishima is typing his name in a search bar in one social media app or another.

"His account isn't private!"

Katsuki leans over to look at Kirishima's phone as nonchalantly as possible, but his curiosity gets the better of him. Katsuki's not on FaceSpace, he firmly believes that social media makes people stupider, and this particular one is for whiny old people, but Deku's profile is pretty scant, save for a multitude of photos of him, his mom, and Hisami.

"That's his son, Hisami."

"He's adorable."

"He's a little shit."

"He kinda… reminds me of you. Jesus, was your mom the egg donor?"

"Shut the fuck up," he says, horrified. It's unsettling to hear Kirishima voice what Katsuki has been thinking every time he interacts with the kid. He grabs Kirishima's phone to scroll through more photos of birthdays, holidays, and one with an irritated Hisami showing the camera his casted arm. It's the same little scowl he wore when Katsuki was holding him after dinner, and the curve of his little mouth looks like the spitting image of Katsuki when he was a sulking child.

An odd feeling niggles in the pit of his gut. He goes over everything he knows about Hisami, and about Deku's Quirk. He specifically said his Quirk works on same-sex couples and Hisami is three… and—and—

And he saw Deku a little over four years ago. He has access to surrogates. And he brushed just a bit too close to Katsuki as they parted ways, and if his Quirk is touch-based, then he _definitely_ had an opportunity.

Katsuki drops the phone. He can't look at that kid anymore. If he does, he'll remember his attitude and the shape of his eyes and the springy blond curls and his love of spicy food.

"Holy fuck." The words hiss out of him like a sigh, barely audible. Katsuki is either having a stroke or an existential crisis. It's possible he's having both.

"Huh?" Kirishima asks. Katsuki can't talk about this anymore. He doesn't think he can build the crib either, but he'd rather do that to keep his mind off his new revelation.

It's crazy. It's fucking _bonkers; _but it's also not, and that's what scares him.

"Let's get this crib built. I've got shit to do later," he mutters, throwing himself fully into his task. He needs to talk to Deku—maybe throttle him, too.

"Fuck," he whispers, dread pooling in his gut.

Izuku checks his watch again, his foot tapping anxiously on the hardwood floor of his office. His last consultation ended about fifteen minutes ago, and he's checked his watch probably every other minute since. He's got an hour before his office hours end and he has to pick up Hisami from his mom's. It's been about a month since that disaster of a dinner, and Izuku can't get Kacchan out of his head. He's been trying to pluck up the courage to call him, but he only got as far as asking his mom for his cell number.

He needs to do the right thing, but doing the right thing could quite literally ruin his life, and, by extension, his son's life. He doesn't know how Kacchan would react. Would he care? Would he feel obligated to be in Hisami's life? He'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined that kind of scenario over the years, but that was a fantasy best kept to the deep recesses of his mind. The most likely scenario is that he'd throw a fit, which, admittedly, he really can't fault him for. He'd probably punch him, revert back to their middle school animosity, and maybe go public with it and get the clinic shut down and his license revoked. He can handle all that. What he can't handle is the possibility of losing his son, and the probability of that happening is higher than he'd like to admit. That's what keeps him from calling. That's what keeps him from reaching out and being honest. He sighs heavily and puts his face in his hands.

The door to his office bursts open with such force that it slams against the wall, and all of a sudden, as if Izuku had summoned him just by his thoughts alone, he's face to face with an absolutely enraged Kacchan, and his receptionist scurries in after him.

"I'm so sorry, Midoriya. He just—"

"I need to fucking talk to you," Kacchan says, sounding like he has an incredibly thin hold on the last of his sanity. All Izuku can do is quickly excuse his receptionist and close the door behind her. This is what he gets for waiting.


	5. Chapter 5

Deku stiffly closes the door after he's ushered his receptionist out, and Katsuki sees the fear of god in his eyes. If that's not a confirmation, he doesn't know what is.

"I know why you're here, and I was going to call you," he says, maybe in an attempt to calm the rage inside Katsuki. Deku is familiar with Katsuki's rage, sure, but he feels like he's on another level right now. If he could bottle his anger, it'd be enough to power the whole fucking country.

"You think," he pauses, absolutely incredulous. "That a _phone call_ would be enough? A fucking _phone call_ to explain that you used me to make a fucking kid?"

"It was supposed to be a start. I didn't want it to go like this." Deku looks small and sincere, but he always looks that way, and no amount of cowering is going to quell the storm in Katsuki's chest.

"How else could it possibly go? This is—" A shaky breath. "I've never—" A choked up groan. He's trying to keep himself in check, but he's woefully unprepared to have a discussion like this. Deku made this decision without him. He had nine months to prepare for being a father, and three years to put it into practice. Katsuki feels like a baby-shaped bomb has been dropped in his lap.

"How the fuck could you do this to me, Deku?" It's the most broken and scared and betrayed he's ever allowed himself to sound. Deku at least has the decency to look pained. He's wringing his hands nervously, and every time Katsuki moves, he flinches away. _Good. He deserves that._

"I just… I really have no excuse. I was lonely. It was already on my mind when I ran into you, and I just _did it._ I let it happen. And I didn't want to feel bad about it because there was a good chance you'd never know, and probably a chance that you wouldn't even care. And I can't make myself regret it because I love him more than I've ever loved anyone else." He blows the words out so fast, Katsuki is reeling just trying to keep up. He's never been at such a loss for words.

"You—fucking—" Katsuki is so choked up, so completely unable to come to terms with the maginitude of what he's done. Unable to believe that Deku thinks so little of him that he really thought Katsuki wouldn't care about Hisami's entire existence. It's fucking insulting and it hurts.

"I'm _sorry. _I will do anything to keep this quiet. I know you're pissed at me, but I'm asking you to think of how this could affect Hisami."

Katsuki releases a strangled screech. This is his fault, and he has the audacity to make demands? Katsuki feels cold and numb and like a strong wind might be able to knock him over if his anger wasn't grounding him, rooting him to the floor.

"You should be in fucking prison. You should lose your license or whatever it is you have that gives you the right to do this."

Deku grimaces, bites his lip. He says nothing.

"How could you do this? How dare you?" He's already asked that, he knows it, but it's really the one question that keeps coming back to him.

"I'm sorry for using you. I'm sorry you found out like this."

"Sorry you got caught, you mean."

He shrugs, like this isn't a grave situation. His eyes are shiny with tears, but there's a certain amount of resolve in their green depths. Katsuki is furious, so furious that, for the first time in his life, he has no idea what to do next. There used to be a path ahead of him, smoothly paved with signs ahead telling him where to go and what to do to become the number one hero. Everything else, people, problems, distractions of all kinds, all fell automatically to the wayside. Now, that road is cracked and forked and there's no signs to help him find his way. Katsuki lashes out, and there's now a hole in the wall of Deku's wallpapered office. Deku jumps, probably expecting his fist to find his face next. Katsuki's considering it.

"Do you… what are you going to do?" Deku whispers, fear in his eyes. Katsuki sigh.

"I have no fucking clue."

There's a long, heavy pause as they try to find a way forward, something to say. Neither of them can look at each other, either from guilt or disgust. Katsuki feels his rage ebb, just so. It leaks out of him, bit by bit, leaving him exhausted. Deku's phone _blips_ in his pocket, and he checks it.

"I have to pick up Hisami from my mom's soon."

"Does she know?" Katsuki blurts out, and then another question comes to him, unbidden. "Do my parents?"

Does everyone but Katsuki know he has a son?

Deku shakes his head. "Of course not. Nobody knows."

"Except for me," he says, the full weight of the situation settling over him like a fog. Katsuki has a fifty percent stake in a child. Hisami is _his._ And suddenly, he knows there's only one way forward, for the time being.

"I want to know him," Katsuki says, trying to affect a calmness he doesn't feel with his tone. "I want _him_ to know _me. _I'm… He's my kid, too, and you're not really in a position to tell me _no."_

Deku has an indescribable look on his face. Maybe it's incredulity, or hope, or the sheer terror of giving Katsuki unfettered access to a child. He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"It's a discussion we don't really have time for at the moment. We… there needs to be rules and boundaries. You're a hero, Kacchan. That puts a target on his back, and… please don't take this the wrong way, but I have a feeling you don't know the first thing about kids."

"Who's fucking fault is that? I never _wanted _a kid."

Deku physically recoils like he's been slapped. He said they didn't have time to talk about this, but there they were, discussing it. Katsuki tries to put aside his rage, the bubbling heat inside him that's snapping and hissing under his skin. He tries to rationalize, tries to convince himself that Deku isn't trying to keep him away from _his _kid. He feels an odd protectiveness over a child he's met all of two times, a child who, as far as Katsuki knows, isn't all that fond of him.

"I really have to go. I'll call you after I get him to bed tonight and we'll work this out."

"You're not going to fucking power play me, Deku. I literally give no fucks about ruining your life, so don't test me."

"Noted." Deku checks his watch again, and sighs. "I'll walk you out."

"Don't bother," he spits, and shoves past Deku to be the first out of the door.

Katsuki can't even see straight he's so distraught. He's thankful that he drove his own car because he doesn't have the mental capacity to be on a train with strangers. Ground Zero can't afford to lose it in public, and Katsuki is _losing _it. He only makes it to the car and turns it on before he crumbles like wet cardboard, folding in on himself and sobbing out his frustration.

Katsuki never expected to be in a situation like this—being gay and aggressively responsible kind of eliminates the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy. And it's not even a pregnancy anymore. It's an entire living, breathing human. He's three years behind, and no amount of racing to catch up is going to make a difference. He's not sure what he's more upset about, missing everything thus far, or having a child at all, or having a child with fucking Deku.

Katsuki is lost and confused and he feels completely alone. For the first time ever, being alone feels stifling.

"Papa, look!" Hisami says, running out into the yard the second he opens the gate. Hisami is trying to show him his shoes, so his running is punctuated by disjointed jumping kicks. His left shoe is red, and the right shoe is white, both with blue accents and the Frostfire logo. Hero worship, apparently, runs in the family. Izuku feels drained from recent events, but Hisami's bright smile is impossible not to respond positively to. It's infectious.

"New shoes?" Izuku asks as Hisami jumps into his arms. He holds him tight, though he's making it difficult by squirming, and plants a wet kiss on his freckled cheek.

"Obaasan said I was good today, so I could have one thing from the mall, and I picked these!" He wiggles his feet while he babbles on about his adventures at the mall and Izuku walks up the path to the door. He can see his mom watching from the kitchen window.

"Obaasan spoils you," he says lightly, pushing through the door.

"Obaasan says _spoiled_ and _loved_ mean the same thing," he coos, a self-satisfied grin on his little face. Izuku laughs. He's too smart for his own good.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, honey. Are you staying for dinner?"

Izuku feels bad saying no, but he's so stressed and exhausted and all he wants to do is hide away in his apartment. He hopes Hisami won't put up a fight about bath and bedtime tonight.

"I don't think so. It's been a long day."

"Issues at work?"

"No, nothing like that." Izuku wonders how much he should let on. His mom is pretty relentless when it comes to forcing him to talk about his problems. "Uh, Kacchan came by the office today. We're… trying to work things out."

His mom and Hisami wear twin frowns. Hisami is the only one who speaks.

"Icky. I'll fight him."

"Hisami, no. Where do you even learn these things?"

"Obaasan shows." He grins. Izuku gives his mom a half-hearted glare and she shrugs, trying to hide a tittering laugh behind her palm.

"Alright, Button, time to go home. I hope you said thank you for your shoes."

"He did, about a thousand times. He's a good boy."

They say their goodbyes, hugging, kissing, and promising to call this weekend.

Dinner comes in the form of cheap drive-through food, and Hisami is young enough to still consider that a treat. He's thrilled when he gets a pack of Frostfire stickers with his meal, and Izuku knows he'll be scraping them off walls for days to come.

Bath time is, blessedly, not an issue once he pulls out his secret weapon: bubble bath. Hisami is puddling around with a full Santa beard when Izuku decides to bring up Kacchan.

"Hey, Button. You've got to be nice to Kacchan when he comes around, alright? He's going to come visit sometimes. Papa wants us all to be friends"

The change is immediate. Even with his face covered in bubbles, the pout is unmistakable.

"Don't wanna."

"Why not?"

"He makes you feel icky!"

"I've known Kacchan since we were your age. Did you know that?"

"No," he whispers, wiping bubbles off his face. Izuku can tell he's done with the conversation because he's rushing bath time, opting to wash his hair without being prompted.

"We were really good friends, and I'd like to be friends again. And guess what?"

"Huh?"

"He knows Frostfire," he whispers. Izuku is not above pandering to and bribing his son. It's the lifeblood of parenthood, truly. Hisami gasps, tiny fingers pausing in his soapy locks, staring wide-eyed at Izuku. He's got him—hook, line, and sinker.

"_What?"_ He sounds like Izuku just told him the secret to the universe. Before he can say anything, Hisami throws his hand up dramatically—it's quickly becoming a signature move of his—and pretends to faint again. Water splashes over the edge of his tub at his outburst, soaking his work pants, and Izuku can't stop laughing as he props his son back up to finish his bath.

By the time bed time approaches, Hisami has worn himself out, and he goes down eerily quick. It's like the universe knows he's got an important conversation to have with Kacchan. He finally has enough courage to make the call he should've made weeks ago—_years _ago, really. Kacchan answers on the first ring, as if he's kept his phone glued to his hand all night in anticipation.

"Hey, Deku," he says, his voice sounds rough and worn. The guilt builds in his chest again. Izuku never wanted this.

"Hisami's out cold. I'm… I'm tempted to apologize again, but I think if we keep doing that, we'll never work through this."

There's silence on the other line, but Izuku can hear stilted breathing if he tries hard enough. He waits for Kacchan to speak. He doesn't want to fight, and he'll be as accommodating as he possibly can while still keeping Hisami's best interest in mind.

"Yeah." He sounds so defeated, more broken down than Izuku's ever known him to be.

"I'm thinking it's probably best to introduce yourself to him slowly. What's your work schedule like?"

"I don't want to do this over the phone, Deku," he says, clearing his throat, as if he plans to say more. Izuku waits.

"Can you just… tell me about him?"

The question breaks Izuku's heart into tiny, bite-sized pieces. He can't believe he ever dared to think Kacchan wouldn't care about his own son. He realizes that was probably a lie he fed himself to justify his selfish decisions. There's a stone in his throat when he speaks.

"Y-Yeah, Kacchan. Of course. What would you like to know?"


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Katsuki makes it back to his apartment's parking garage, his face is blotchy and his eyes burn, but they're dry again and hidden behind large sunglasses, even though the sun has long gone down and the parking garage is dimly lit. He refuses to beat himself up for crying. It's not something he allows himself to succumb to often, but over the years he's learned that being overwhelmed—especially over something like _this—_is normal as long as he picks himself up once it's over with. He's not about to tell anyone about it, but he'll let himself have this.

He does his best to go about his day. He cooks dinner, feeds his awful, recluse of a cat, and bathes the horrible day off himself. He tries to distract himself by muddling through an All Might biography, but stops when he reads the same page for the third time and finds he hasn't retained any of it. He's been eyeing his scant liquor cabinet for a while, and decides one glass wouldn't do anything other than take the edge off, and he's off work tomorrow anyway.

He settles in his desk chair with a glass of whisky and he finds himself searching Deku's name in the search bar of FaceSpace, scrolling through pictures of his son. It's a little after nine when his phone rings. He's been checking it obsessively all night waiting for this moment, so it only rings for about three seconds before he answers it.

"Hey, Deku," he says. His rage from earlier feels far away. Right now, he feels hollowed out, an empty husk of blood and bone and skin.

"Hisami's out cold. I'm… I'm tempted to apologize again, but I think if we keep doing that, we'll never work through this."

Part of Katsuki knows Deku didn't do this to hurt him, but he's still hurt. As far as Katsuki's concerned he deserves an apology from Deku every day for the rest of his life, and two on birthdays and holidays, but no amount of _sorrys_ is going to change the fact that they have a kid in the middle of this. Deku asked him point blank to think of Hisami, and at the time, it felt like a ploy to manipulate him, but when his rage gave way to rational thought, he decided he couldn't hold this against a three year old. He's going to be pissed at Deku forever, but ruining his life directly affects Hisami, and he won't hurt his kid. So, he'll be the bigger person.

"Yeah."

"I'm thinking it's probably best to introduce yourself to him slowly. What's your work schedule like?"

Katsuki sighs and sips from his glass. Putting this off anymore than it's already been put off is a stupid idea, but he doesn't have the energy to do this right now.

"I don't want to do this over the phone, Deku." He looks at the screen of his desktop again, a picture of Hisami doing his best to hold a puppy as big as he is, his nose red and runny from his allergies, and it pulls at heartstrings Katsuki never knew he had. "Can you just… tell me about him?"

"Y-Yeah, Kacchan. Of course. What would you like to know?"

_Everything, _Katsuki thinks, sipping from his glass again and letting the burning liquor ground him.

"When's his birthday?" Katsuki doesn't expect the flare of anger he feels having to ask a question like that about his own kid, but it makes sense.

"May second," he says. "I… I have a lot of pictures, if you want them."

Distantly, Katsuki appreciates the fact that Deku is being accommodating. He wonders if Deku wanted this all along, but he lets the thought go with another sip of liquor. He can't handle thinking about that.

"I'm not missing any more birthdays," he says, and he doesn't care for anything Deku might say about that, so he asks another question. "Does he like heroes?"

"Mostly just one hero. There's a small Frostfire shrine in his room."

"You kidding me?" Katsuki sits up in his chair, suddenly indignant. "Fucking Half and Half."

Izuku laughs quietly. "I think he has a Ground Zero grenade pillow somewhere around here. And it breaks my heart, but he couldn't care less about All Might."

Katsuki can't believe it, but he laughs, too. He can just imagine nerdy Deku trying to force Hisami to watch an All Might documentary and him scowling at it.

"He seems like a really opinionated kid."

"You have no idea."

_No shit, Deku. And it's your fault._ Katsuki is about to ask another question when Deku rushes to correct his folly.

"I'm sorry. That was shitty of me to say. I didn't mean it like that, Kacchan." Deku still sounds like a wheedling kid sometimes. It's mind blowing that he's managed to raise someone as strong-willed as Hisami.

"I know," he says, sighing. No matter how much he wants to, it seems they won't be able to ignore the elephant in the room. "Deku, we both know this isn't ideal, and if it weren't for him I would fucking destroy you, but I'm not going to do that as long as I get to be in his life. So, fucking relax."

"I appreciate that," Deku says, and Katsuki knows he's hedging towards something. "I don't want you to feel obligated, though."

"I _am_ obligated. He's my kid. That's not up for discussion. I'm in this, and I don't half-ass shit. You should know that."

"Of course, I know that. I'm just trying to… I don't know. I'm trying to make this as easy for you as I can."

"_Easy_ would've been not using me for a kid, or asking my permission, or fucking calling me three years ago when he was born."

"Fair enough." There's a big sigh on the other line, and it's nice to know Deku's just as tense as Katsuki's feeling.

"I'm off tomorrow. Can we meet up to discuss a plan?"

"Yeah, I'll make time. Do you want to come here and lay the groundwork with Hisami?"

"Groundwork, huh? He hate me, or something?"

"Hate is a strong word, but you said it yourself, he's very opinionated."

Katsuki laughs at that, and maybe that's due, in part, to the alcohol, but he also feels oddly hopeful at the prospect of interacting with his son.

"What time?"

"My mom will have him for a couple hours tomorrow while I get some work done, so come around four, maybe? We can sort some things out, and then he'll come home around six. We could have dinner?"

"I'll cook. I don't trust you in the kitchen."

"I've managed to keep our son fed for three years. Give me some credit!"

_Our son. _It sounds so fucking weird coming out of Deku's mouth, but it's true, and Katsuki feels like he's in the twilight zone.

"Whatever," he mutters, gruff and uncomfortable. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He doesn't wait for a cheery sign off. He's had enough of Deku for a lifetime, and he's got to see him tomorrow anyway, so he needs all the time he can get to recharge. He passes out the second his head hits the pillow.

—

Izuku was supposed to spend his toddler-free hours getting some work done at home, maybe tidy up a bit while his tiny tornado of a child is out of the house and unable to run through it like a natural disaster. None of that happens. Izuku didn't sleep last night after getting off the phone. He caught maybe three hours of sleep when he passed out, folded over his desk, until Hisami woke up around five am. He spent the evening compiling every picture he's ever taken of Hisami in the last three years. Every memento, every short video of moments of great importance. He found the baby book his mom put together, and a copy of his birth certificate, and a _baby's first Christmas_ ornament, and that Ground Zero pillow. He made an obnoxiously long list of every little thing he remembers his son liking and disliking, of pertinent information like his allergies and emergency numbers and pamphlets from the preschools he's been looking at for next year.

As he looks at the mountain of papers and photos, waiting for Kacchan to arrive, he realizes that just the sight of this will most likely be overwhelming.

"Fuck," he hisses, grateful his son isn't around to hear his swearing. Just as he's about to hide the evidence of a sleepless night's neuroses, the bell chimes.

He buzzed him up to his floor and anxiously hopped around while he waited for the knock at his door.

It predictably came much sooner than he would've liked.

"Hi," he says, trying to discern Kacchan's mood by the tightness of his eyes. "Come on in."

Kacchan nods, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He surveys the apartment with a critical eye and Izuku sorely wishes he'd spent some time cleaning.

"This place is a mess."

"Yeah. I was going to clean, but…" Izuku trails off, unsure if he should broach the subject of the compendium of Hisami on the dining table.

"But…" Kacchan says, his eyebrows arching impatiently.

"I put together some things, if you want them. Stuff about Hisami." He looks toward the incriminating mountain of documents on the table.

"Christ, Deku. Did you sleep at all last night?" Kacchan walks toward the pile and takes a folder off the top. It's labeled and everything.

_No. Too much guilt._

"A bit. Hisami's an early riser, though."

Kacchan _hmms_ while sifting through pictures and documents.

"Do you want some tea?"

"I want to figure this shit out."

"Right. Me too. Want to sit down?"

"Whatever," he says, and throws himself on the couch. Then, he pulls a wayward Frostfire action figure out from under his ass, grimacing at it.

"Sorry. He always hides things like that when I ask him to clean up. Makes him feel like he's getting away with something."

"Spiteful little shit. That's got to be from my side of things," he says, smirking. Izuku forgets, for just a minute, that Kacchan hates him for this. He gives him a small, hopeful smile.

"Don't fucking smile at me like that. I'm about five seconds from going nuclear."

"Understandable. Sorry."

"So, what's the plan? You know him better than I do. Is he going to freak out if I tell him he's my kid?" Kacchan tosses the action figure away.

"Um, this is going to make you mad, but I don't think it's a good idea to tell him right off the bat."

Kacchan gives him a flat, angry look, but he stays silent, presumably to allow Izuku to explain.

"He's three. He's not going to understand all the complicated shit and the nuance of the situation—he's going to wonder where you've been."

"Then you can tell him why I haven't been around."

"No, I can't. He doesn't know you well enough, and I _know_ that's my fault, but you've got to give him time to adjust to you," Izuku says, feeling sticky and sick with guilt. "And you need time to adjust to him. I have no doubt that you can do this, and Hisami will be all the better for it, but being a dad is hard."

"Don't patronize me, Deku," he growls. Izuku mentally pats himself on the back for not flinching.

"I'm not. I'm trying to help."

"I don't need your fucking help, Deku! Everything you touch turns to shit. I…" He's shaking, his fists balled in knots against his legs. "I fucking hate you."

Izuku swallows the lump in his throat. This is fine. This is _normal,_ and even if it wasn't the usual way their conversations used to go, he knows he deserves this. He takes a deep breath, and marches on.

"I'll make some tea." He stands and makes his way to the kitchen, shaky hands fumbling around for mugs and the turning on the kettle. Izuku can handle this, but he's always been a cryer, and pathetic little tears dribble out of the corners of his eyes. But in ten seconds, he's going to wipe his eyes, and he'll be fine.

"I shouldn't have said that."

Izuku jumps at how close his voice sounds, quickly wiping his face.

"It's okay. I don't mind that you hate me. I get it. I know I said that there needed to be boundaries, but that's not to keep him from getting to know you. It's to make sure this goes as smoothly as possible. I'm not trying to fight you, I'm trying to do what's best for _our_ son."

Kacchan looks a bit taken aback by that, like it hasn't quite sunk in yet.

"I know. I'm pissed, but I trust your judgement. I don't want to fight you either," he says, looking at his shoes, and then he rolls his eyes, a small smirk tilting the corner of his mouth. "Not that much, anyway."

Izuku nods, grateful that the kettle starts whistling, so he has a reason not to respond. He busies himself pouring tea, and Kacchan carries his own mug back to the couch.

"So, we won't tell him yet. I want to, eventually, though. You think I should just come for dinner a few times a week?"

Izuku nods, a warm feeling pooling his chest at the way Kacchan is clearly trying to put aside their differences to speak about this.

"I think it's best to keep things here for a while. He feels most comfortable here. We can work our way up to outings. If all goes well, maybe he can spend some time with you while I'm working, instead of my mom watching him—whatever your comfortable with that works with your schedule."

"What are we going to tell people?"

"I think we should avoid telling our parents until Hisami knows. I'll leave it up to you what you want to tell your friends or your agency, but I'd like to keep Hisami as far away from your spotlight as possible, for the time being."

Kacchan nods, most likely thinking of his own fame and all the danger that comes with it.

"I'll keep it quiet. No need to complicate things more than they already are."

"Anything else you want to talk about? This, uh, went a lot smoother than I expected."

Kacchan guffaws and drags a hand down his face. He looks over at the stack of photos and documents Izuku compiled the night before.

"Guess I should start studying."

They spend the next hour going through years of photos. Izuku gives him the highlights, all the funny things he remembers. Kacchan grimaces at Hisami's newborn photo.

"He looks like a rotten potato."

"They all look like that when they're new! It takes them a few days to get cuter. Here, this one's better, a week old."

"I can keep these?" Kacchan asks, looking uncharacteristically soft.

"Yeah, whatever you want. I've got doubles of everything."

The buzzer rings, and Izuku goes to press the button to let his mother and Hisami up.

"You know, after seeing your office, I expected a swankier apartment," Kacchan says, eyeing the buzzer, probably thinking about the fact that this complex doesn't even have an elevator. Izuku shrugs.

"All my money goes to Hisami's school funds. Right now, it's between hero, astronaut, or baby doctor—either way, it'll be an expensive future."

"I can help with that. I've got money coming out of my ears," Kacchan says, still sifting through photos of Hisami.

"Let's get through today, first."

As if on cue, tiny hands bang on the door, muted voices on the other side of the door.


	7. Chapter 7

The second Hisami barrels through the door, Katsuki knows exactly why the apartment is messy. He comes in jumping and squealing and tossing away his shoes and jacket wherever he feels like putting it, a tiny whirlwind of noise and flailing limbs. Katsuki remains on the couch, watching the scene unfold and wondering how he's going to do this. He's struck by an odd sense of terror at the thought of being responsible for Hisami. What if he fucks up? What if Hisami hates him for no good reason?

"Papa, Obaasan took me to the zoo! I got to see the baby penguin and he's babier than me!" He takes an uncoordinated running start and jumps into Deku's arms. Deku catches him and hoists him up like it's something they do every day. It probably is. Katsuki feels jealousy curl around his gut. Will Hisami ever look at him like that? Will he ever trust him enough to leap in his arms?

Inko stands in the doorway, her shoes still on, a gift shop bag in her hands. She makes eye contact with Katsuki, and though she looks a bit guarded, she nods at him genially. He stands to give her a hug and take the bag from her since it's pretty clear she's not staying.

"Hi, Auntie. How was the zoo?"

"Hisami cried three times, which is one less than I expected, so a good day over all." She readily receives his hug, and pats his cheek the same way she used to when he was Hisami's age.

"Crying about what?"

"He said the animals were too cute." Her fond smile hurts to look at for too long. Katsuki scoffs, but not meanly.

"Like father, like son, I guess."

"I'm glad you two are trying to work out your differences. I know it means the world to Izuku. Don't let Hisami give you a hard time—he's protective of his Papa."

Katsuki doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. He just pastes an awkward smile on his face.

"I'm heading out now, honey. I'll see you Monday."

"Thanks, Mom. Love you. Say _bye_ to Obaasan."

"I love you the most, Obaasan! More than the baby penguin!" Hisami chirps, his curly, little head half-buried in Deku's neck. Inko says her goodbyes and I love you's and pats Katsuki's shoulder as she leaves. Hisami is babbling quietly into Deku's ear, and he's only able to make out about a third of the words. Katsuki peeks into the gift bag and finds a penguin plush.

"Here, kid." He hands the plush over to Hisami, and the first thing he does is hug it tight to his chest.

"What do you say, Button?" Deku says lightly, his eyes shifting between Katsuki and Hisami.

"Thank you, Icky-san."

Deku's smile blinks out, as if he's unsure of how Katsuki will react to the nickname. Katsuki does his best to affect a fond smile, but he's not sure it works, it feels too little like a smirk and too much like a grimace.

"My name's Katsuki," he says, trying to be soft, but only managing gruff.

"Papa says Kacchan," Hisami says, patting Katsuki's cheek. His hands are probably filthy, but warm.

"You can call me Kacchan, then," he says, reluctant.

"Mr. Icky Kacchan."

Deku stifles a laugh in his shoulder as Hisami gives him a flat, challenging look.

"Kacchan is going to cook for us. Are you hungry?"

"I want spicy," he chirps.

"I'll give you spicy, kid. You want to help me?" Katsuki opens his palms, ready to receive the three year old, should he accept. Deku smiles encouragingly at both of them, like it was the right move. Hisami looks to Deku for permission before reaching for Katsuki. He feels warm as he puts his son on his hip, his heart leaping up to his sinuses he's so nervous and off-kilter and the slightest bit _happy._

"I'll help, but I can't touch the stove 'cause I'm _little. _Papa says so," Hisami says, and then pokes Katsuki's nose for no apparent reason, punctuated by a little _boop._ Deku leans close to Katsuki to whisper in the ear that isn't next to Hisami's head.

"Will you be alright if I go take a shower?"

Katsuki nods wordlessly, hiking Hisami higher up on his hip while he squirms around.

"Alright. No knives."

"Christ, Deku, I'm not _that_ bad with kids," he barks. Even if he was that stupid, the idea of Hisami with a knife is too unsettling a thought to allow. Deku chuckles and heads to the closed door down the hall. The second Deku closes the door behind him Hisami's entire demeanor changes. He pokes a little finger into Katsuki's sternum, scowling.

"_Icky."_

"So, it's going to be like that, huh?" He can't help it, he laughs. His kid is a petty little shit, but he knew acting that in front of Deku would get him in trouble.

"We're gonna fight," he says, absolutely serious. Katsuki sets Hisami down on the countertop—as far away from the stove as possible—and laughs again, this time louder, more free. He's starting to relax because even if Hisami is threatening him, at least they're talking.

"You're lucky you're cute, kid."

"I'm not _kid, _I'm Hisami!" He smacks a tiny, open palm on the countertop, obviously working himself up. Katsuki ignores the outburst and looks through the kitchen for utensils.

"Well, I'm not _icky, _I'm a hero." He finds a pot and a cutting board. He starts chopping vegetables. Hisami watches, his mouth twisted in a pout.

"Yeah, but Frostfire's better."

"I'm higher than him on the rankings." He tosses chopped veggies into the pot, adding in the shitty, store bought curry paste. He can't believe Deku feeds his son with this subpar shit. Hisami won't know what hit him when he's done sprucing the meal up.

"He has _two_ Quirks!"

"I can fly," he says, before he points to the spices he's laid out on the counter. "Hand me those."

"He doesn't need to fly! He skates!" Hisami passes the spices to him slowly, staring at the deep reds and yellows like he's never seen them before. He decided to drop the Frostfire issue entirely.

"You know how to wash rice?" He puts a strainer full of rice in front of him, and Hisami picks it up. Before turning to the sink, he smirks at Katsuki.

"I win. Frostfire is better," he says, and sticks his tongue out. He turns to the sink and turns it on. To Katsuki's horror, he puts his feet in the basin while he pats and pushes around the rice under the faucet.

"Oi, don't go swimming in it," he admonishes, even though it's damn cute and he covertly pulls his phone out of his pocket to snap a picture. Hisami giggles and kicks his feet in the running water, making a mess.

"Does Deku ever discipline you?" He takes the strainer from Hisami's wet hands and tosses its contents in the rice cooker.

"No need! I'm an _angel."_

"I've seen no evidence of that yet. Get out of the sink and try this. Tell me if it's spicy enough for you."

Hisami licks the wooden spoon in Katsuki's hand with no regard for germs. Curry dribbles down his chin and he smears it all over his face in an attempt to get it all in his mouth. If the way he takes the spoon from Katsuki's hand and licks it clean is any indication, he likes it.

"Good?"

"Yeah," he mutters reluctantly, pouting about it. Katsuki laughs, and wipes his son's dirty face with a wet rag even though he's fighting him at every turn. Deku emerges, toweling off his wet curls. He's in a loose white shirt and Frostfire pajama pants. Katsuki's scowls at them. Hisami reaches for Deku the second he's near enough to pick him up.

"How's dinner coming? Wait, why are you wet?"

"Mr. Kacchan let me swim in the sink. Now, I don't need a bath!"

"Oi, I did _not. _Your son is a terror," Katsuki grumbles, stirring the pot one last time before he sets it to boil.

"You're still getting a bath, Button. Anything I can help with?"

"Nah, it's just got to simmer a while."

Deku nods, and puts Hisami back on his feet. He sprints away to sit on the couch and starts pulling hidden toys from the cushions so he can introduce them to his new penguin.

"How's it going?"

"He's awful and he hates me, but it's endearing. He likes my cooking."

"Good to hear. How are you feeling about it all?" Deku looks so pained and unsure as he asks, like he knows he's thrown Katsuki to the wolves.

"S'fine, Deku. I can handle this."

"Alright, Kacchan. Just let me know what you need from me to make this easier."

Katsuki thinks about it for a second, throwing glances at Hisami across the room. Katsuki doesn't ask for help often, but if this is going to work, he needs to be able to talk to Deku.

"How do I get him to like me?" He blurts it out before he can feel too weird about it. Deku smiles conspiratorially at him.

"Bribe him. Shamelessly," he says, not an ounce of regret in his tone. Katsuki barks a laugh at that, and goes to sit with his son. Before dinner, he's introduced to all twenty seven of his Frostfire action figures.

When the night is over, Hisami reluctantly hugs Katsuki's leg before he leaves, and whispers, "Thank you for the magic curry."

Katsuki feels so stupidly happy he smiles the whole way home.

—

"Oi! Half and Half," Katsuki yells from across the agency. Todoroki gives him his usual dead-eyed stare.

"What?" He asks flatly. Katsuki pulls him to standing and holds his phone up for a selfie.

"Act like we don't hate each other," he grumbles, then gives his brightest smile at the camera. He can see Todoroki's stoic face morph into an expression of confused horror.

"What in the world?"

"Just fucking smile! It's for a fan."

Todoroki reluctantly complies and Katsuki clicks a few pictures until he gets something good enough for Hisami.

"Now, sign this," he shoves a pen and one of Hisami's notebooks at Todoroki's chest.

"Did you hit your head?" Todoroki asks, something like genuine concern in his voice. Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"No. Just sign the damn thing. It's for a kid."

"What kid have you ever been this kind to? It's suspicious."

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Katsuki hasn't told anyone about Hisami yet—not even Kirishima or Ashido. Truth be told, he's been avoiding them because he doesn't want to lie to them about how he's been spending his time, but he's not ready to spill the beans.

It's only been a few weeks since their first dinner together. Hisami still doesn't like him, but he warms up a bit more every night he spends eating his cooking and playing heroes. He's got eight dinners under his belt, and every time it gets harder to leave. He always leaves around eight, before their bath and bedtime routines take place. He's supposed to help out with all that tonight, so he wants to bribe Hisami enough to tolerate his presence there.

"I'm not signing it if you don't tell me," Todorki says, crossing his arms. "I mean it's not like you have some scandalous love child to keep a secret, or something."

Katsuki just barely manages not to jolt at his words. He looks away, hot and flustered.

"It's for a family friend. Just… sign the fucking thing. Please?" He doesn't like lying about his son, but Todoroki is the last person he's going to open up to. Todoroki narrows his eyes, but he uncaps the pen and signs it. The second the pen leaves the ink he snatches the notebook, and runs out of the agency. He's got an hour before he needs to head to Deku's—plenty of time to get a photo printed and framed.

"You're welcome, Bakugo."

"Yeah, whatever. Thanks, Half and Half."

—

The picture and the autograph are a hit. Hisami pretends to faint the second he receives them, just like he did at the restaurant. Katsuki's so relieved he could cry when Hisami picks himself off the floor and hugs him around the neck. It's the most willing contact they've ever had—definitely progress. Deku smiles warmly at the two of them, and Katsuki can see his eyes are shiny with the beginnings of tears. It's comforting to know Deku supports this. They don't talk much about anything but Hisami, and they still have regular blow ups with lots of screaming on Katsuki's end, but… it's not bad. Their arrangement is working as well as can be expected.

"Are you going to help me cook dinner tonight?"

Hisami nods meekly, still in Katsuki's arms, and his curls brush against Katsuki's cheek. He ruffles them, and they get started on the spicy katsudon. Hisami "helping" with dinner mostly consists of sitting on the countertop and getting in Katsuki's way, but he coos and babbles and argues with Katsuki and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't the highlight of his week. Deku always slips away while they cook, so he's got Hisami's undivided attention. He doesn't know what he actually does—he's never actually been down the hall to their rooms—but he appreciates that he's willing to step back.

"Can you crack an egg without making a mess?"

"_Duh,"_ he says, defensively. Katsuki puts a bowl and three eggs in front of him.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he says, challenging him. Hisami never backs down from a challenge. It's another thing he's come to learn about his kid. Despite growing up without him, they have an alarming amount of traits in common. Hisami cracks the eggs carefully, with an uptight, almost pained expression on his face, his brows furrowed and his tongue poking out between his lips.

He manages to get them all cracked with very little mess, and Katsuki only had to pull one shell out of the bowl.

"Good job, Bubba," he says, the nickname his father called him when he was that age slipping out thoughtlessly.

"What's _Bubba?"_

"It's you. Unless you don't like it."

Hisami looks sheepish for a moment, turning the nickname over in his head. A smile pulls at freckles cheeks.

"You can call me _Bubba, _I guess," he mutters, clearly flustered. Katsuki's heart feels full to bursting.

—

Dinner goes by with just as much mess as usual. Hisami gets sick of sitting with them and he eventually roams away to scribble in his notebook.

"Bubba, huh? Didn't your dad call you that?"

Katsuki nods, suddenly embarrassed for some reason.

"It's cute. It suits him. I'm glad he's warming up to you," Deku says, as sincerely as he always is. "Think you can handle bathtime on your own while I take care of the dishes?"

Katsuki balks. He didn't expect to do it on his own. He doesn't know the first thing about what to do. Deku can apparently see the apprehension in his eyes.

"It'll be fine. He does everything himself. Just make sure he doesn't drown."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, I can handle that." He nods decisively.

"Button, get ready for your bath. Kacchan's going to help you while I clean up, alright?"

Hisami whines about it, but he still goes to his room with Deku to get pajamas while Katsuki runs the bath water. He emerges a few minutes later wearing a blue terry cloth robe, Deku behind him with shaky shoulders.

"I'm ready," he says haughtily, then drops his robe to reveal Frostfire swim trunks. Katsuki frowns and looks at Deku. He mouths, _the fuck?_ Deku, still trying not to burst out laughing, whispers in Katsuki's ear.

"He said he doesn't want you to see his willy."

Katsuki guffaws. Hisami definitely has a flair for the dramatics, but he's also found he's a bit shy. He rolls his eyes and gives Deku a thumbs up, and Deku slips away to do the dishes.

—

Three months in, and Katsuki finally admits to himself that he'd do anything for Hisami. He finds himself distracted at work, at the gym, even at home. Any time he's not with Hisami, he's thinking about him, wondering what he's doing, if he's misbehaving, if he's missing Katsuki too. Katsuki had to pick up a few extra shifts during the week, so he hasn't seen Hisami in eight days. In the grand scheme of things, eight days is nothing. He shouldn't be feeling this out of step after eight days away, but he does. He has this irrational fear of Hisami forgetting about him. He steps into an alleyway on his patrol and pulls out his phone, unable to focus on anything else. He calls Deku.

"Hey, Kacchan. What's up?"

"Is it," he pauses, sighing at how weak he's about to sound. "Is it normal to feel like I'm dying because I haven't seen him in a while?"

There's a long pause on the other end of the line before Deku speaks. He sounds the slightest bit choked up.

"Yeah. My mom sends me pictures throughout the day. I'll forward them to you."

"Thanks, Deku."

"Of course. He's been missing you too, by the way. Do you want to talk to him?"

"He's with you right now?"

"Yeah. Give me a second." There's some shuffling on the other line. Katsuki can make out bits of soft conversation if he strains to listen.

"Mr. Kacchan! Where have you been, Dummy-san?" Hisami sounds as flustered and excited and upset as Katsuki's been feeling, and it's somehow affirming. Katsuki's eyes burn.

"Hey, Bubba. I've been working a lot. I… I miss you."

Katsuki rubs at his eyes, smearing grease paint on his arm. He can't be doing this on the clock, but he can't make himself hang up.

"Miss you," he mutters, and Katsuki knows him well enough now to know he's probably pouting, pissed to show how much he cares—just like Katsuki at that age. "When are you coming back?"

"Really soon. I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

Ground Zero is notoriously known for being a workaholic. He's known for being a badass who never turns down a shift. He's known for being eternally single, and for having almost no social life. So when crime spikes, he ends up with all double shifts. It's never bothered him before. He never had a reason for it to bother him.

The ninth day of no contact with Hisami is slightly easier. Just like he promised, Deku sends him pictures of Hisami. Katsuki checks his phone obsessively every time he gets a small break in his patrol. Most of them are candid—he's not doing much other than scribbling in his notebooks, or playing with his action figures, or making a damn mess of his lunch. A normal day by all accounts, but each one goes straight to his heart, and straight into his saved photos. He savors them, then he pockets his phone again and heads back to his agency for another night shift full of piling up paperwork.

Around six, Deku texts him again.

**Deku: **_if you have time tonight I know Hisami would love it if you called before bedtime._

**Katsuki: **_I'll make time._

A full minute goes by without a response, but it was worth the wait. Deku sent a picture of an absolutely luminous Hisami, smiling ear to ear, brandishing a Ground Zero action figure. Below, Deku texts _just told him you're going to call._ Katsuki wastes no time setting the picture as the background on his phone. Two more hours of meticulous paperwork and filing go by before Deku calls. He jumps at the sound, and looks at all the people milling around the office. Kirishima is here somewhere, and he's not going to risk him overhearing—he's a nosy shit head. So, Katsuki does what anyone would do: he hastens to a supply closet and locks himself in, sitting cross-legged in the dark.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Icky Kacchan, it's Hisami!"

"So, I'm icky again, huh?" Katsuki's smile is so wide it hurt his cheeks. Hiding in the supply closet was a good move.

"Cause you never visit me!" Hisami whines, and he can clearly imagine the pout.

"I know. I'm working on coming to see you. We'll have lots of fun. What did you do today?"

"Watch Obaasan shows. Oh! I got a new action figure."

"More Frostfire?" Katsuki asks as if he doesn't know, silently preening in the dark.

"No. Frostfire needed a friend to help with the villains, so I got Ground Zero. I picked it out myself and it's the best," he says primly.

"Is it your favorite?" Katsuki couldn't help but fish for compliments.

"Maybe," Hisami grumbled, never one to give too much away. "Can we play heroes tomorrow?"

The hopeful lilt of his voice broke Katsuki's heart. He had another double to work tomorrow, but…

"Of course. Get lots of sleep tonight, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Icky-san."

"Goodnight, Bubba," Katsuki says, and in a fit of paternal madness, he adds, "Love you."

He says it just a moment too late, the phone already being passed back to Deku. If Deku heard what he said, he didn't comment on it. Katsuki was grateful. He stays on the line listening to murmured _good nights_ and _I love yous _and wishing he were there—wishing Hisami knew what he they are to each other. Katsuki hears a door shut, and then Deku's voice whispers to him from across the city.

"Everything alright, Kacchan?"

"I miss him," he says simply, miserably.

"I know. He misses you, too. He doesn't say it, but I can tell."

"Yeah? How?"

"Mostly he complains about my cooking," Deku says, laughing lightly. "He says I don't play heroes right—which I find especially silly because you and I grew up playing heroes _together. _I don't see how I'm doing it any differently."

Katsuki smiles, knowing no one can see it in the dark.

"I told him I'd see him tomorrow."

"Do you have the day off?"

"No, but I couldn't tell him no. I'm going to talk to my boss after this. I've got a fuckton of time off, and they owe me."

"I've got a full day of work tomorrow. He's supposed to stay with my mom, but if you get the time off, do you want to watch him instead?"

"Yes," he says far too quickly. Deku chuckles. It sounds warm and liquid.

"Alright. Let me know if you get off. I've got to be at the office at eight. Goodnight, Kacchan."

"Goodnight," he says, breathing the word. Something about the dark has him speaking softly. The phone is still to his ear, an unconscious smile still on his face, when the door bursts open. Light filters in and burns out his retinas.

"Oi!"

"Bakugo, what the hell are you doing in here?" Kirishima, the nosy motherfucker, stares down at Katsuki with unnecessary concern in his eyes.

"None of your business, Shitty Hair." He picks himself up off the floor, dusting off nonexistent dirt and shoving past him. Kirishima follows, a dog with a bone.

"You were on the phone?"

Katsuki says nothing. It's better to say nothing than to open that can of worms right now. He still needs to talk to Mirio before he heads out for the night.

"Come on, man. We've hardly talked in months. I'm worried about you."

"Everything is fine."

"Must be if you're sneaking away to make phone calls in closets." Kirishima smiles impishly at him. "New boyfriend?"

"Absolutely not." Katsuki is practically sprinting away from him at this point. Kirishima puts a heavy, hardened hand on Katsuki's shoulder to stop him. He allows it, but shrugs him off once he's stopped.

"You work things out with Deku, or something?"

"Or something."

"Bro. Just talk to me."

Katsuki doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to say _I have a son_ without getting into the shady circumstances behind it. He can hardly think about the circumstances on his own.

"I'm taking the day off tomorrow to see some people. That's it."

"I don't think you've taken a day off since we graduated. Not even when you had the flu."

"Yeah, well, things change," Katsuki says, staring at his feet. "I need to talk to Mirio before he leaves."

"You're going to tell me, eventually," Kirishima says.

"Then stop needling me."

Katsuki makes his escape, a beeline to Mirio's big, fancy, number one hero office. Katsuki's phone buzzes in his pocket right before he opens the door, so he checks it. The picture Deku sent him is in the low light of Hisami's bedroom. He's curled up in Frostfire sheets, his curls damp and messy, resting on a Ground Zero grenade pillow, his action figure clutched in a tiny fist.

For the second time that day, Katsuki changes his phone background. He pushes into Mirio's office with renewed determination. He'd take a damn week off if Hisami asked him to.

—

Mirio was eerily calm about giving him the day off. He didn't put up any kind of fight, his wheedling, perpetually pleasant voice saying things like _you work so hard _and _everyone deserves a break._ It took all of Katsuki's strength not to snap at him not to be patronizing. He got what he wanted, so there was no room to complain.

He knocks lightly at Deku's door, promptly at seven. As a gesture of goodwill, or something, Deku gave him the card key for the outer door of the complex, so there was no need to buzz him up. As he waited for the door to open, Katsuki felt anxious—anxious to see his son, but also anxious because he's never spent a whole day with Hisami by himself.

"Hey, Kacchan, come on in." Deku is messing with a tie as he ushers him through the door. He looks nicer than usual—tailored slacks and a pressed, plaid button down.

"You look nice," Katsuki says, and then grimaces because he's never complimented Deku in his life.

"Thanks! I've got meetings with investors all day. I have to look like I have my shit together."

"Where's Hisami?"

"My room—watching cartoons. He likes to pretend he gets up with the sun, but he's still half asleep. He's not usually up and about until around eight or nine."

Katsuki nods, thinking how cutely stubborn that is. He follows Deku into the kitchen.

"So, I've got all the important numbers on the fridge. I'll be in meetings all day, so it'll be hard to reach me, but my mom's just a call away and she knows everything about him." Deku stops fiddling with his cufflinks to stare Katsuki down. "Don't be embarrassed if you have to call her, seriously. I know how you are, but it's really not a big deal if you need some help."

"Everything will be fine, Deku."

"I know it will be. You're really good with him, and I trust you one hundred percent. He's so excited to see you."

Katsuki can't help the warm smile that breaks over his face. Deku's trust means a lot to him, if only for the fact that he's been Hisami's sole provider for three years. There's still some ugly, sticky feelings between them, but Katsuki can admit that much.

"Alright, so should I go wake him up, or just let him be?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with. You can go lay down with him if you want—he's a snuggler, especially in the morning. Sheets are mostly clean. I washed them last night." Deku gives him a nervous smile before taking a suit jacket off the back of a chair and stepping towards the door. "Alright, I'm out of here."

"Wait," Katsuki says, eyes honing in on Deku's fucked up tie. "You're twenty eight, Deku, learn how to tie a goddamn tie."

He grabs it, retying it and manhandling it into the correct placement. Deku is stiff and still, staring wide-eyed at him, presumably uncomfortable with how close they are. Katsuki notices his Adam's apple bob and cord against his collar.

"Um, thanks, Kacchan." He sounds out of breath.

"Knock 'em dead. We'll be here," he says, patting his shoulder, lightly shoving him toward the door. Deku pulls himself from his daze, and obeys.

The door to Deku's bedroom is cracked, and Katsuki feels a bit odd going in there. It's dark, only the light of the TV washing the room in harsh, blue light.

Hisami watches the TV with squinted eyes, only his fuzzy blond head appearing amidst a nest of blankets and pillows—half-asleep, just like Deku said.

"Hey, Bubba. Okay if I hang in here with you?" He speaks softly, doing his best not to rouse him. He gives a sleepy nod, the beginnings of a smile playing across his face. Katsuki shifts some pillows around to get under the covers with him. He's glad he wore sweats instead of jeans today.

Hisami shifts easily, pressing himself into Katsuki's side like it's the most natural thing in the world, pillowing his head on Katsuki's chest as he throws an arm around him to cradle him. Hisami pokes a little finger into Katsuki's stomach.

"Papa's softer," he mutters, frowning slightly, but nevertheless settling in. Katsuki chuckles.

"Hero muscles, kid."

"Not _kid, _I'm Bubba."

"Yes, you are," he says, his heart in his throat, clogging him up and making his eyes burn. He pushes soft blond curls of an angelic face. "My Bubba."

Katsuki feels the last nine days wash over him—the exhaustion of working all those doubles, the pain and confusion of not seeing his son—and in a matter of minutes, they're both asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Katsuki wakes to chubby hands lightly slapping his cheek. He grunts, momentarily forgetting where he is and who's currently interrupting the best sleep of his life.

"Dummy-san, feed me."

"Hah?" Katsuki squints in the low light, green eyes staring him down. Then, he remembers that he's supposed to be babysitting, and that he's currently melting into Deku's bed. He jolts, fully awake and aware and ready to be a kickass parent even though he's off to a dubious start.

"Sorry, Bubba. How long have you been up?"

"_Forever,"_ he moans, collapsing on the bed dramatically, holding his stomach. "I'm dying."

"That drama might work on Deku, but not on me. You gonna help me make breakfast?"

"Lunch," Hisami says, scowling.

"Lunch? It's only," Katsuki looks at the red numbers on the alarm clock. _11:30. _"Shit."

"Language!" Hisami screeches and jumps at him. Katsuki's pro hero reflexes allow him to catch his little bundle of energy. He throws him over his shoulder. Hisami wiggles and kicks and giggles at all the attention, and Katsuki revels in it. He missed this.

"Hey, Bubba, don't tell your papa I slept on the job, alright?"

Hisami curls around Katsuki's shoulders like a scarf, and puts a finger to his lips. "_Shh."_

Katsuki chuckles and copies the motion. This is fine. Today will be perfect.

—

Izuku loosens his tie the second the meeting ends. Going over financial reports and pandering to rich people all day wears on his soul, but the more money he can squeeze out of them, the more he can pay his employees without bankrupting prospective parents. He's dead tired, and the thought of getting home and being welcomed by his son is the only thing keeping him standing. He's been distracted all day, wondering how Kacchan is handling his day in with Hisami. He has no doubt that it's going well, or as well as can be expected where Hisami is concerned, and he's over the moon about it. He just wishes things between him and Kacchan were better. He's got no one to blame but himself, but still. They've been avoiding it—and each other, to some extent.

This morning felt different, though. Izuku knows he's reading too much into that compliment Kacchan paid him, and the easy way he touched him. His old crush is resurfacing, and only getting stronger. He's seen a much softer side of Kacchan in the last few months, and even when he's not soft—not with Hisami—he's seen a stable maturity and level headedness in him that he'd never imagined experiencing in his wildest daydreams.

Izuku needs to put these feelings away. The most he can hope for out of a relationship with Kacchan is successfully co-parenting together. Anything else would be asking too much.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket for the first time all day, and feels a mix of disappointment and relief that Kacchan hasn't tried to text or call him. He opens up his contact info and calls.

"Hey," Kacchan says, sounding the slightest bit nervous. He can faintly hear Hisami in the background, but he can't make out what he's saying.

"How'd the day go?"

"Great. We're great. Everything is fine."

"That sounds very convincing, Kacchan. What happened?"

There's a pause. Izuku has to keep himself from laughing, picturing Kacchan with a flummoxed expression.

"Hisami is covered in paint. I don't even know how it happened, really."

"Ah, been there. Don't worry, it's all washable."

"Thank fuck," he says, and he can hear the inevitable screech that follows. "_Language!"_

"I should be home soon. I'm leaving the office now."

"Hopefully, I'll have the little demon clean by the time you get back."

"Godspeed, Kacchan. Braver men than you have tried."

"There's no one braver than Ground Zero, nerd. See you soon."

Izuku heads home, a giddy smile and a light heart plaguing him the whole time.

—

The first thing he sees when he enters his apartment is Hisami's naked butt streaking through the apartment, giggling impishly. His curls are soaked in crunchy, dried paint, one side white and the other red. He wishes he could say Hisami has never done this before, but that'd be a bold faced lie.

"I'm Frostfire and you won't catch me, villain!"

"Even heroes need baths, Hisami," Kacchan, sounding extremely done with parenting, chases after their demon spawn. Kacchan stops in his tracks when he sees him by the door, his socks sliding on the hardwood floor.

"Shit," Kacchan hisses, dragging a hand down his face. Izuku cracks up at the sight. He's never seen Kacchan look so flustered.

"At least he's abandoned the swim trunks," Izuku says, forgoing a _hello._

"Papa!" Hisami squeals, running—naked and shameless—at Izuku. He catches him smoothly.

"Hi, Button. Were you good for Kacchan?"

"Hisami was a good boy, but Frostfire does whatever he wants."

"Is that so? Well, neither Frostfire nor Hisami gets to have dinner until they bathe. Can you tell Hisami that when you see him?"

Hisami rolls his eyes, his fun ruined, and nods. Kacchan stares at him like he's magic after he's set Hisami down and he went straight to his room to get some clothes.

"I've been chasing him around for an hour. How the fuck did you do that?"

"Practice. You'll get there."

Kacchan grunts, and it turns into an incredulous laugh, loose and wonderful and mesmerizing.

"I'm sure you did great today. Thank you for watching him."

"I'll get better at this," Kacchan says, determination blazing in his eyes. He moves down the hall to draw a bath, and Izuku sighs.

"You're already great," he whispers, certain that no one will hear him.

—

They put Hisami to bed, and he goes down easily enough. Running Katsuki ragged for eight hours is apparently tiring. He checks his phone for the first time since Deku called him, melting into the couch, like he's finally able to rest again. Three missed calls—all from Kirishima, and triple the amount of texts. He frowns, thumbing the notifications away.

"Everything okay?" Deku, always one to spot even the slightest discomfort and rush to fix it, asks.

"My friends have been bugging me about where I've been."

It's weighing on him more than he ever expected, keeping this from his friends. He just… doesn't want to say anything until it's _something._ He doesn't want to upset the careful progress he's accumulated with Hisami, and for some reason he can't fathom—or won't admit—he doesn't want his friends to hate Deku for what he did. He needs to work through that on his own before he throws Deku to the wolves.

"Kacchan, I know we still have a lot of bad blood between us, and I'm probably the last person you want advice from, but parenting can be isolating. I'd hate for you to be avoiding your friends because of all this." Deku hands him a glass of wine, and he takes it even though he doesn't care for wine and he's never stayed at the apartment for long after Hisami goes to bed. Spending the day with him was amazing, but it was also thoroughly exhausting—any kind of booze will do after a day like this. Still, Katsuki brushes his words off, his defenses going up.

"I want to spend my time with Hisami. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! He loves spending time with you, too. I'm just saying you've got to grab support wherever you can get it."

"Who supports you, then? I never hear you talk about friends." Katsuki refuses to acknowledge that he never hears Deku talk about anything other than Hisami. They never try to talk because they're not friends.

"My mom, mostly," he says, swishing his glass of wine around, appearing almost embarrassed. "I'm also in a single parents support group."

Katsuki scoffs, and Deku frowns, sipping from his glass.

"It helps a lot. I don't—" he pauses, frowning again, "You know I'm not great at making friends, but they've been good to me, and Hisami tolerates the other kids in the group."

Katsuki doesn't know that Deku isn't great at making friends. He knows that he made sure he never made friends in middle school, lording his power over others to keep Deku isolated. Long abandoned guilt festers in the pit of his stomach. He pushes it away with a swig of red wine. Katsuki sighs, and decides he can be honest.

"I don't know how to tell them about this. I hardly know how to talk to you about it, and you know everything."

"Well, then maybe we should talk. My mom can take Hisami for a few hours and you can yell it all out." Deku smiles, almost wistfully, before sipping self-consciously again.

"I don't yell at people anymore. Or, not that much, I guess."

"I deserve it, though. Just because you love Hisami, and things are going well, doesn't mean this was okay. I'd do anything to earn your forgiveness, Kacchan. I mean that."

"I hate when you do that," Katsuki grumbles.

"What?"

"When you're kind and understanding and willing to take my abuse. Makes it hard to be pissed at you." Katsuki can't meet Deku's eyes as he says it, it's too close to an apology he's not ready to make real.

"I feel like we're not talking just about the kid thing anymore," Deku says, eyeing him nervously over his glass. Katsuki drains his to give himself the courage to speak.

"We've got a lot to talk about," he admits.

"Only if you want to. I'm fine leaving our past in the past."

"You're doing it again."

"Shit, sorry. Fuck you, then," he says, and then he giggles, unable to maintain a front like that.

"Yeah. Fuck you, too, nerd."

They clink empty wine glasses, almost like they're friends, and it doesn't feel wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hi, honey," Deku chirps sweetly, a red apron clashing stupidly with his hair. Katsuki walks over the threshold of his apartment, feeling the stress of a long day melt away in the presence of his home and his family.

"Papa!" Hisami runs to him and Katsuki wastes no time putting him on his hip and kissing his curls. Deku sidles up to them, engulfing them in a hug—a picture perfect family.

"It's good to be home."

"Love you," Deku says, like it's natural and easy, like they do it every day. They share a kiss, Hisami squished between them, and—

And Katsuki jolts awake, sitting upright in his empty king-sized bed, in his empty bachelor pad, sweating twice as much as usual. _Christ._

Maybe Deku was right. Maybe he needs to reach out to his friends, to stop spending all his free time sequestered in Deku's apartment. He gropes in the dark for his phone and ignores the fact that it's two am. He opens his text conversation with Kirishima, only a bit guilty at all the messages he's only skimmed in the last few days.

**Kirishima: **_are you coming to the shower? You haven't rsvpd_

**Kirishima: **_you know you've always been crabby and rude but I never thought you were a shitty friend until this moment_

**Kirishima: **_Mina expects an apology and a really expensive gift when you attend the shower you still haven't rsvpd for. Don't underestimate the wrath of a pregnant woman. It won't end well._

**Kirishima: **_BRO U KNOW ME. YOU KNOW I DONT GET ANGRY OFTEN. That said FUCK YOU. Text me back asshole._

**Katsuki: **_sorry I've been MIA. I'm coming to the shower and I'm buying the most expensive thing on your registry. Are you available tonight? I'll tell you about what's been keeping me busy._

**Katsuki: **_sorry I'm an asshole._

Katsuki collapses back in bed, lamenting his situation. He still doesn't know how to talk about this, but he has to try. Kirishima and Ashido don't deserve to be iced out.

—

The door to Kirishima's apartment opens, and before anyone can yell at him, he holds a six-pack out to his best friend, a peace offering. Kirishima takes it wordlessly, pouting. Katsuki's barely over the threshold when Ashido starts yelling.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"I'm getting to that," Katsuki mutters, staring guiltily at his socked feet. Ashido is hugely pregnant, a physical representation of just how long he's been avoiding them. "How's the parasite?"

"Better now that Uncle Bakubitch has graced us with his presence."

"Come sit down," Kirishima says, looking about as unpleasant and upset as Katsuki's ever seen him. Katsuki nods and obliges.

"So, spill. What's so important you ghosted us for nearly five months?"

The words catch in Katsuki's throat. He decides it's better to just show them. He pulls out his phone and shows them a picture Deku took one afternoon—Katsuki and Hisami passed out together, sitting upright on the couch, both their heads thrown back and mouths hanging open. Hisami looks like a perfect composite of a young Katsuki. He passes the phone to Kirishima, and Ashido leans in to get a good look.

"Bakugo," Kirishima starts, eyebrows knitting together. Katsuki cuts him off.

"He's mine. I have a son," he blurts, and it feels good to say it out loud and to someone other than Deku after all this time.

"This is Deku's kid, right?"

Katsuki nods and takes a deep breath, ready to regale them with every sordid detail. He tells them about Deku's Quirk, about the grocery store run-in, about their tentative plan, and finally, about how much he loves his son.

"He's just like me—a stubborn little shit, but he's so much like Deku, too. It shouldn't work, but it does. He's damn smart, too."

"Bakugo," Kirishima says, looking oddly pained. Katsuki's unconscious smile drops off his face.

"This is crazy. Like, prison crazy. You know that, right?" Ashido, fearless and frank even without the pregnancy hormones, asks. Her whole body looks tense and angry on his behalf. Kirishima looks more stunned than anything else. Katsuki crosses his arms, feeling attacked.

"I know, but it's not like I can do anything about it now without hurting Hisami."

"Fuck that. Take custody and throw his crazy ass in jail. Who _does _something like that? It's disgusting." Whether she does it consciously, or not, she holds her belly, clearly distressed.

"Oi, I'm not going to take a kid away from the only parent he's had for three years. That won't help anything. It's complicated." Katsuki can't believe he's been put in the position of defending Deku, and that he's doing it so wholeheartedly. He isn't ready for this.

"Bakugo, you're a pro hero. I'm sure the courts would side with you. Do you have a lawyer yet?" If Kirishima doesn't get that pitying grimace off his face, Katsuki's going to scream.

"I don't need a fucking lawyer. This is exactly why I've been avoiding talking about this. You don't get it. Hisami is great, and I'm not going to do anything to upset him like that." Katsuki has half a mind to leave. He feels sick. "And Deku's been really accommodating. We're making the most of a fucked up situation."

"Of course he's accommodating. He's probably obsessed with you. He probably couldn't wait to use your kid against you and manipulate you into being in his life," Ashido says, her voice breaking with disgust, and something like concern. Kirishima is silent, staring at his hands. Katsuki recoils, tucking his chin into his neck—a fear response.

"Fuck you," Katsuki growls, offended. Not for Deku—he can't say he's never thought the same things they're saying now, if fleetingly—but for Hisami. His son isn't a _tool. _Nobody is using him for _anything._

"_Hey,"_ Kirishima warms, sounding angry for the first time. "Don't talk to her like that."

"Don't fucking say shit like that about my kid, then. You want to act like a big, tough protector for your family, but you're doing the same shit to me right now. Fuck that."

He stands to leave, and Kirishima reacts defensively, standing too, like Katsuki's about to attack or something. He knew his friends wouldn't be happy about this, but he never thought they'd be so vicious.

"I'm leaving. Fuck both of you for this." He storms away, heading for the door.

"Bakugo, wait a second."

"_No._ You're supposed to be my friends. I'm fucking happy for the first time in my life, and it's because of Hisami, but all you can see is the bad shit." Katsuki is shaking. He hasn't been this mad since his fight with Deku, and before that, he can't ever remember being this upset. "You think I don't know all that? You think I haven't been thinking about it for _months, _trying to figure out a way to share this—probably the most _personal_ thing I've ever shared—with you? You should know me better."

If Katsuki had the presence of mind to give a shit, he'd see that both Kirishima and Ashido look distraught and apologetic. He leaves, slamming the door behind him.

He walks home in a sulking, miserable rage, replaying every nasty thing his friends said over and over again. It hurts. It probably hurts more because they have a point, but who cares about being right and winning an argument when a three year old's wellbeing hangs in the balance?

His phone is buzzing in his pocket. Kirishima and Ashido take turns calling and texting, texting and calling, and he's fuming and he just wants to distance himself from this feeling.

So, he calls Deku, which is ludicrous if he thinks too hard about it. He was trying to distance himself from Deku by talking to his friends, trying to distance himself from the root of his discomfort.

"Kacchan? Everything alright?" He sounds worried, and Katsuki realized that it's eleven on a weeknight. He was probably sleeping, and Katsuki never calls. It makes sense that he'd be worried, but his supportive concern grates on his thinning composure.

"I told my friends."

"Yeah? It… it sounds like it didn't go well." His voice is soft, wheedling. A bedroom, bedtime voice. It makes Katsuki's anger flare up, an inconsolable rage.

"No fucking shit, Deku. This is so fucked up. How could anyone be happy for me? How could anyone care about my kid when the way he came about is a damn dramatic, soap opera spectacle?"

"You care about him. Does that bother you?" It's a whisper on the wind, barely there, and painful to release. He's hurting Deku, and hurting Deku has always been _easy, _even if it doesn't always feel right or good.

"_Yes!_ No—I don't fucking know."

"I'm listening, Kacchan. You can let it out."

He does. He spends over an hour on the phone, hissing profanities and every awful name he can use to describe Deku, and he just takes it. He absorbs it all with tremoring, choked up _I knows_ and _I'm sorrys_ because he's always been stronger than Katsuki and he knows this is his fault.

When he's done, when he's wrung himself out, he's exhausted. They've both been silent for three whole minutes, but Deku is still there, breathing steadily, waiting for him.

"Do you feel better?"

"Yeah." A sniffle, a wet, ugly sob that Deku knows better than to acknowledge. And then, because a wayward curse is easier than an apology, he says, "Fuck."

"It's okay, Kacchan. Do you need a break from us? From me?" Pleading and placating. How can he stand this?

Katsuki shakes his head, frantic at the thought, and then he remembers that Deku isn't here. He can't see a thing, he can only listen to whispers in the dark.

"Never."

"Come over when you're feeling up to it. Get some rest. Goodnight, Kacchan."

_Why is he so good?_


	11. Chapter 11

Katsuki wakes feeling drained. He almost feels hungover—dehydrated and dried up and exhausted. His throat hurts from screaming into the phone, and he immediately feels an unfamiliar sense of shame for the way he acted. Deku… didn't deserve that. He'd have a hard time finding anyone who deserved everything he'd said in a fit of rage. He searches among the shards of his dignity for his phone, and finds it nearly dead with more missed calls and texts than he's ever seen. He dismisses the calls and voicemails, thumbing through the text notifications.

**Ashido: **_im sorry._

**Ashido: **_I should've been kinder about the situation. I stand by what I said but kiri and I trust your judgement. I'm sure Hisami is a great kid and I know you're a great dad._

**Ashido: **_please call one of us back. We don't want to leave this unresolved for another four months. We love you and we'll love anyone with half your DNA baku ❤️_

**Kirishima: **_we support you bro. You can talk to us. We want you to be happy. We'd love to meet him. Deku too..._

There's more—at least twenty more that all say pretty much the same thing—but Katsuki doesn't want to think about them. He'll let it lie for today. There is a text from Deku that he hurries to open, that guilty feeling hitting him full force.

**Deku: **_Taking Hisami to a petting zoo today if you'd like to come. You can say no… I didn't tell him you were coming so he's not expecting anything. Hope you're doing well._

"Fuck," he mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. The text came thirty minutes ago. He hardly had to think about if he _wanted_ to go. He's weak for Hisami—and Hisami with baby animals seems like a _fantastic_ combination—but the question was whether or not he _should_ go after last night.

**Katsuki: **_I'm sorry about last night. You sure it's ok if I come?_

Apologizing in a text is easier than saying it aloud, but they'd have to talk eventually. A response comes much faster than he expected.

**Deku: **_of course. Want to meet us there or go together?_

**Katsuki: **_I'll meet you there. Thanks Deku._

His only response is the cross streets for the street fair and the time they'll be heading there. Katsuki feels gross and dirty as he gets ready for the day—everything feels too unresolved, too heavy.

—

"Mr. Kacchan!" Hisami squeals, recognizing him immediately, even with the baseball cap and sunglasses he's wearing to hide himself from nosy fans. He's nervous about being out and about with Hisami—nervous about the great Ground Zero being seen with a defenseless kid, an exploitable weakness. This is the first outing they've been on, and Katsuki can't help but think of it as some kind of fucked up consolation prize Deku cooked up to make him feel better. Deku shouldn't be consoling him at all after all the things he said, but it does help.

Hisami jumps at him, and Katsuki picks him up automatically. This—holding Hisami—is quickly becoming his favorite thing in the known universe. He feels tension he didn't even know he was carrying unknot inside him.

"Hey, Bubba. You having fun?"

His freckled face crumples, and Katsuki is immediately on edge, wondering what he's done to upset him.

"I fed a baby goat. He sat in my lap, and he licked my hand, and I _love_ him," he wails, the water works in full effect. Katsuki tries not to laugh at his son's soft heart and easy crying, really, but he can't help it. Hisami has never looked so much like Deku. He holds him tighter and presses his face into his curls.

"Don't cry, Bubba. You're supposed to have fun."

"I'm having fun! Papa says crying is normal," he says, flustered and defensive, balling his tiny hands in a way that's trying to be menacing.

"He would say that," he says, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. Hisami doesn't care for it. He pouts.

"Put me down so I can pet the bunny," he demands, still weeping softly, staring after a grey rabbit. Katsuki obliges, chuckling, and Hisami totters away on uncoordinated limbs after the nearest rabbit.

Katsuki makes his way to Deku. He's smiling fondly after his son, his phone held up, ready to snap a picture.

"Hey, Kacchan. Glad you could make it," he says when Katsuki stands beside him. Before he can lose his nerve, he apologizes.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, staring at a nearby goat, somehow it's weird eyes were easier to look into than Deku's.

"We don't have to talk about it," Deku says, calmly, quietly.

"Yeah, we do. That's not the kind of person I want to be anymore. I was pissed at my friends and—"

"It's easier to yell at me than at them. Less collateral damage. I understand," he says, his expression carefully blank. He tries to change the subject. "Have you tried to talk to them today?"

Katsuki sighs, annoyed again because Deku is the most forgiving asshole on the planet. _Less collateral damage, _he thinks, and it really bothers him that Deku is perfectly fine believing Katsuki doesn't care about how his words affect him.

"There's plenty of collateral damage, Deku. We're in this together, and I shouldn't treat you like that, no matter how upset I get. Take the goddamn apology."

"I already told you it's fine. Apology accepted, always. I'm more worried about you and your friends," he says coolly, snapping pictures of Hisami chasing baby chicks, a placid smile on his face. Katsuki shakes his head incredulously. How can he be so unfazed?

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Deku isn't even look at him. He's scrolling through pictures on his phone, unbothered. Cool as a goddamn cucumber.

"Act like everything is fine."

Deku peeks at him, a sad smile flickering to life.

"You're going to get mad," he says, his smile widening, just so, brightening up his eyes in the cold, grey day.

"I thought that didn't matter?"

"You're allowed to feel whatever you want. I'd rather not fight in front of Hisami, though."

"I'd never do that. Just tell me."

Deku stays silent for a while, presumably mulling over his words. He gives a light laugh—more like a small scoff, actually, before he speaks.

"Well, you and Hisami are incredibly similar. Tantrums are hard to watch, but if I get worked up about them, too, it makes it worse. It just has to run its course, and then everything is fine again. No harm, no foul."

"A tantrum," Katsuki deadpans, annoyed that he's not wrong. He chuckles under his breath. "You're a good dad, Deku."

"So are you," he says genuinely around a bright smile.

"I'm just a babysitter to him," he admits bitterly.

"Not to me. Not to you. You're a dad, and I have a sneaking suspicion that you _love_ being a dad."

"I do," he says, but he knows he's only a dad for a few hours, a few days a week. He hates to admit it, but he's not sure sure he could do it—and do it _well—_all the time. The thought terrifies him, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to try. He'd run himself into the ground again and again for Hisami.

"Go be a dad, then. I'll hang back here a while," Deku says, elbowing him, nodding in Hisami's direction. He's managed to find the only patch of mud in the whole animal pen, and he's seconds away from diving in.

"Hisami, _no."_

That little knot of guilt is still lodged in his intestines—Deku is too nice, too willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but they've made all the progress they can for the time being, so he goes after Hisami, feeling better every step he takes closer to him.

—

They end up back at the apartment, Hisami half-asleep the whole way home. Deku lets him carry him up to the apartment, his face buried sleepily in his neck. Still, when he tried to put him down to sleep in his bed, he puts up a fight. He ends up passed out, sprawled on the couch between them. Deku put hero news on, the volume nearly muted, just to give them something to focus on. Katsuki wonders if Deku feels as stifled in the silence as he does. The only thing keeping him from springing up and running away is his son's sleeping form, and the bone-deep need he feels not to disturb him.

"Why does he look so much like you?" Katsuki wonders aloud, surveying him. It's a stupid question, really. Why does anyone look like anyone? It makes him think of Mendel, recessive genes, and Punnett squares.

"There's plenty of you in there, too," Deku says softly, stroking white blond curls. "He has your—"

"My nose. I know," he says, cutting Deku off. He thinks he noticed all the little bits of Bakugou family genetics on Hisami the day he first saw him—the aquiline, slightly upturned nose, straight brows over sharp eyes, the exact shade of blonde that belongs to him and his mother. Maybe that's why he was so thrown when he saw him. Maybe he knew before he _knew._

He was still pissed at Deku for this, for keeping his son a secret for three years, for denying him first words, stuttering steps, and birthday candles. He's not sure he can ever forgive that injustice, but it's hard not to love Hisami. It's hard not to feel inexplicably connected to Deku through him when they sit in the quiet apartment with their son napping between them, his head on Deku's lap and his little bare feet tucked under Katsuki's thigh.

Katsuki wants more than a few hours in the week. He wants more than supervised, clandestine play dates in the apartment. He wants more than his son calling him Mr. Kacchan, and never knowing that both his parents love him. He wants to let his love for this little thing, this perfect human made up of parts of him and Deku, to flow freely, unencumbered by distance and the careful rules they set.

Katsuki allows himself to place a gentle palm on his son's back, his thumb stroking loving circles along the little bumps of his spine. Hisami shifts into the touch, stirring just a bit.

"Papa," he mutters blearily, before settling back into sleep. It's so simple, just a muttered word that was probably meant for Deku anyway, but it does something to Katsuki. His heart clenches and his eyes burn and all the things he has and all the things he doesn't come into clear focus.

"Deku," he says, his voice uncharacteristically trembling. He feels hot and shaky, but he can't find the energy to be embarrassed about it. "I want more."

"Kacchan," he whispers, small and tentative, like he's getting ready to argue. Katsuki won't give him the chance.

"I want him to have everything. Two parents and a room in my apartment and all the fucking Frostfire action figures my obscenely large salary can buy, even though it _kills _me to buy them. I want him to know I'm his papa, too. I want shared custody, and—" He pauses, knowing he's about to throw down the gauntlet. "I'm willing to fight you for that."

Deku tenses, whatever soporific connective moment they may have been having vanishes into thin air. The hand stroking Hisami's hair subtly tightens, then slackens again.

"It doesn't have to come to that, Kacchan. Not everything has to be a fight," he says, closed off and guarded. His words say one thing, but his tightly wound tone says he's ready to fight him as well.

"Are you going to give me custody, then? Unsupervised and in my apartment?"

"Do you think Hisami is ready for that?"

"If we keep going on this way, he'll never be ready for it," he snaps. Somewhere, in a small, dark corner of his mind, he remembers Kirishima urging him to get a lawyer.

"Do you think _you're _ready? Ready to tell your agency, cut your hours, and risk your rank for him?" The way Deku says it sounds like he knows the answer, no matter what Katsuki says. Deku doesn't know how he feels, though. Part of that is because Katsuki never allows himself to be fully known, but part of him is hurt that Deku thinks he wouldn't put things aside for Hisami, thinks that he hasn't _already_ disrupted his life for him. Then again, Deku grew up with him. No doubt, he remembers his single-minded focus on being the greatest hero and his calloused attitude toward emotional connections. It makes sense that Deku is wary of him, even if he's good at hiding it. He takes a deep breath, ready to lay it all on the line. He can't hide from Deku anymore.

"I would do anything for him. You and I are complicated, but I wouldn't let anything come between my son and me if you'd just let him be my son. He _is_ my son, and despite the fact that neither of us really want to talk about why you did this… you chose me."

He hadn't planned on saying that last part. It's too raw and real and saying it brings up so many questions, but Katsuki knows it counts for something.

Deku seems to be looking at him with new eyes, as Katsuki presses his burning, unflinching gaze into him, willing him to relent. Without seeming to think too hard about it, Deku places a hand into Katsuki's shoulder, and it doesn't feel exactly _right,_ but it doesn't feel inappropriate either. He hasn't even realized they were sitting close enough for contact like that to even be feasible. Katsuki feels himself lean into it, just so, and he doesn't scramble back for reasons even he can't name. Deku's thumb strokes the line of Katsuki's collarbone over his shirt absently.

"Kacchan," he says, and it's almost done so with the same reverence he once used to utter his name. "Let's put him to bed, and we'll start making some new plans. I'm still… wary, but I trust you. I want those things for Hisami, too."

"I love him so much," he says, because he doesn't know what else to say, and he's so taken aback by his own sincerity. He never saw this—family, love, tenderness—as a potential part of his life. And even if he's still so pissed off about the underhanded circumstances surrounding Hisami's birth, he's still thankful to have him in his life. Katsuki's never been familiar with loneliness, but he knows now that he's been missing something in his life. Loneliness is practically his natural setting when he's not within the walls of Deku's and Hisami's home. He still wants to be the number one hero, that will never change, but for the first time, he wants something else as well—something _more._ He wants to have it all, and that includes Hisami. It includes Deku, even if he's not really ready to come to terms with that thought.

Maybe Deku isn't the person he saw himself doing this with, but without him, Hisami wouldn't have those freckles, or those curls, or that specific shade of green in his bright, curious eyes. And he can't deny that Deku is more than just a competent caretaker—he's an incredible father, and he can't think of anyone who could better raise Hisami.

Katsuki holds Deku's hand, the one still cupped supportively on his shoulder, and he feels so soft and shaky and ridiculous as he chokes out a heartfelt, all-encompassing, "Thank you."


	12. Chapter 12

Their plans go late into the night. There's almost _too much_ to consider. When to tell their parents, how to tell Hisami, who gets Hisami on what days, and when to start that. Izuku can tell Kacchan is reeling, even if he's good at hiding it. It's funny how easy he is to read now. He's not sure if that has to do with the fact that Kacchan lets himself be seen, or because he's so similar to Hisami. It's true that at first glance, Hisami looks more like Izuku—the curls, the freckles, the tiny, almost waifish build, but when you break him down into individual features, he's entirely Kacchan. Izuku can tell Hisami's mood by the tilt of his mouth, the set of his jaw. Sometimes, he'll see the same tells on Kacchan's face, and it will utterly shock him, so much so that he has to shake himself out of it.

"Something on my face?"

Izuku jolts, and shakes his head, embarrassed that he'd run away on a tangent in his mind. He clears his throat.

"What are you going to tell your agency?"

"As little as I can possibly get away with. Agency publicists are going to want all the gritty details so they can stay ahead of the rumor mill, though."

"So, what will you tell them?"

"God, Deku, I don't know. How do you tell anyone this without it sounding suspect and creepy? The last thing I want is for you to lose your clinic, or for my rank to go in the shitter."

Izuku flinches, he can't help it. Kacchan lets out a huge sigh.

"Maybe just leave me out of it entirely. If you can," he mumbles, unable to meet Kacchan's eyes.

"I could tell them you're my boyfriend, and it was something we planned together, and we're just really private people."

"Kacchan, that's—"

"Crazy, yeah. But it's also the easiest, most believable lie."

"I won't ask you to do that." Izuku knows his face is on fire, and Kacchan can probably see it from space it's so obvious, but he hopes he interprets it as flustered guilt and not _yes, I would love to pretend to be your boyfriend._

"I'm not asking. That's what I'm going with," he says decisively.

"I think you should tell them point blank that you want to protect everyone's privacy. All I care about is Hisami's safety."

"Agreed. You don't have to worry about that, but I know you will, so just trust me when I say that's my top priority."

"I trust you." Izuku allows himself a soft smile. It's a wonder he can speak like this with Kacchan. He knows they're not friends, or anything like it, but sometimes he can almost pretend they are. He means it when he says he trusts Kacchan implicitly.

"I've got work tomorrow night. I'll get everything squared away and make sure I have a more set schedule, and then we can talk about overnight stuff."

"You have a room for him?"

"It's a bland office at the moment. I was thinking we could all decorate it together. I don't know shit about what kids need. You've got to help me baby-proof everything."

Izuku smiles, bigger this time. He has fleeting, fantastical thoughts of the three of them strolling through IKEA like a family. He immediately feels guilty for thinking just how much he wants that.

"I think he'd like that. It'll help him feel at home," he says, and then because he doesn't want Kacchan to be blindsided if Hisami refuses to stay with him, he says, "He's never spent the night anywhere without me. I don't want you to be upset if he doesn't feel comfortable with that right away."

"I'm an adult, Deku. I'm not going to hold that against him," he grouses, clearly annoyed.

"Getting the brush off from your son hurts, even if it only lasts for a second."

Kacchan waves him off, and Izuku lets it go.

—

It's nearly two in the morning when they run out of things to talk about. Katsuki has the same numb sensation as the time he broke his arm on the job and he was on paperwork duty for all his shifts until he finished physical therapy: bored, stir crazy, and like his head will explode if he has to think for another second.

"It's late. I'm going to head out."

"You can stay here, if you want. The couch is pretty comfortable once you get all the toys out of the crevices."

"Aren't you sick of me, yet?" Katsuki smirks. It's an odd invitation, but he doesn't necessarily want to turn it down. It's late, he's tired, and this place is starting to feel more like home the more time he spends here. Home is where is son is.

"You're always welcome here." It wasn't really an answer, but Katsuki shrugs. Deku nods, and wordlessly goes to a hall linen closet to find sheets and blankets.

"You can take my bed. I'll get this made up," Deku, the idiotic, self-sacrificing host, says.

"I'm not going to sleep in your bed, Deku."

Truth be told, the idea of sleeping in Deku's bed makes him wildly uncomfortable. He remembers it being supremely comfortable, but he also remembers being enveloped in Deku's scent, and how _familiar_ it was, like it hadn't changed since they were kids.

"You've already slept in it. It's comfortable, right?"

"How'd you know?"

"Hisami told me that he _wasn't_ supposed to tell me that you slept through breakfast." He smiles. "If it helps, he was really upset that he spilled the beans."

"The little rat," Katsuki says, smiling fondly at the door to his son's room.

"Go to bed, Kacchan. See you in the morning."

"Yeah, alright. Night, Deku."

Maybe ten minutes after he lays in Deku's bed, he wakes to little feet slapping on the hardwood floor. Hisami crawls under the covers and curls up right next to him.

"Everything okay, Bubba?"

"Where's Papa?" He seems startled, whether is from finding Katsuki in his father's bed, or getting caught sneaking into it, he doesn't know.

"On the couch."

"Oh. Well, I'm sleeping here. It's more comfy."

"Alright, Bub. Sweet dreams."

—

"Morning!" Deku is flipping heart-shaped pancakes in his underwear, making a valiant—but futile—effort not to make a mess of the kitchen. Katsuki smiles and takes his rightful place behind him, hands sliding around Deku's slim, bare waist. Deku melts into the touch, momentarily forgetting the pancakes.

"Hisami up yet?" Katsuki asks, his lips caressing the shell of his ear. He feels it, more than sees it when Deku shakes his head.

"Let's not waste any time, then," he says, and his voice is unrecognizable, a primal, sensual growl. Deku turns in his arms and pulls him closer, as if they could possibly get any closer than they already are. They kiss, and Katsuki's hands travel lower, and—

"_Fuck,"_ he hisses. He wakes with a start, and a small, socked foot in his ass. Hisami is literally spread eagled sideways on the bed. If he weren't so uncomfortable, he might be tempted to think he's still dreaming—a dream within a dream, but he's sure Deku would be somewhere uncomfortably close by if that were the case. What the fuck is going on in his head? Why the fuck is his subconscious mind obsessed with feeling up Deku in his tight, tiny boxer briefs? And _why_ is he half-hard?

"Fuck," he whispers, softer this time, more resigned. He leaves Hisami to continue his slow conquest of the bed to head to the connected master bathroom, so he get a fucking grip. He's got shit to do today. He's going to be a dad today, officially, and this really isn't how he imagined it starting off.

When he finally leaves the bathroom, sneaking past Hisami's sleeping form, he's tempted to go back to bed.

"Morning!" Deku is cooking pancakes, and it's too surreal, too much like his dream.

"Christ," he mutters under his breath. At least he has clothes on this time.


	13. Chapter 13

Kacchan seems off-kilter, but Izuku's not sure he should comment on it. He's probably just nervous about telling Hisami the truth. Izuku would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit nervous as well. Hisami is, if anything, wildly unpredictable, but Izuku is used to that. Parenthood has taught him to roll with the punches, to ride out the tantrums, to come to terms with the fact that very little ever goes as planned. Kacchan will have to learn that, too, and no amount of theoretical planning can prepare him for that.

Izuku does his best to focus on cooking breakfast, but he can feel Kacchan's eyes pressing into him. Every time he dares to glance his way, Kacchan's eyes dart to the countertop almost guiltily. He could swear Kacchan is flustered, for some reason.

"Everything okay?"

"M'fine," he snaps—which almost certainly means he's not fine.

"You nervous about telling him?"

"A bit. What if he doesn't care?"

"He will. Worst case scenario, we just go on as we have been until he gets used to the idea of it. Kids are resilient."

Kacchan groans, his head in his hands, and Izuku slides a plate of pancakes in his direction.

"It'll be alright, Kacchan," he says, and he pats him on the shoulder on his way out of the room. He recoils like he's been burned, and Izuku mutters a quick, stunned, "Sorry."

He can't fathom what's got him so on edge, but he doesn't want to pry, so he goes to his room to wake Hisami for breakfast.

Mornings are always quiet with Hisami. It's when he's at his calmest. He blinks slowly at his pancakes, his curls a tangled mess.

"Should we tell him now?" Kacchan whispers, staring at their son with guarded, but hopeful eyes.

"Best to do it when he's docile," Izuku says, only half-joking. "Want me to do the talking?"

He nods, looking more nervous than he's ever seen him. The great, dauntless Bakugo Katsuki, rattled by a three year old. _Amazing._

"Hey, Button. Before we eat Kacchan and I have something to tell you."

"_Before _pancakes?" He whines, only half as outraged as usual due to his drowsiness.

"Yes, before. Remember how my Quirk works?" Izuku figures he should start there, and slowly lead him to the answer. Let him figure it out before being told. Hisami nods.

"Makes babies."

"Exactly. And I made you with it, but it takes two people."

"Get to the point, Papa. I'm hungry." Hisami rolls his eyes, and Kacchan guffaws from behind Izuku. He glares at him, but Hisami giggles, obviously pleased to have made Kacchan laugh.

"Fine. What I'm trying to say is, you have two Papas. Kacchan is your Papa, too."

Hisami sits for a second, considering it, and everyone holds their breath in anticipation. His tired eyes land on Kacchan, and he speaks.

"Okay." He pats the seat next to him, and Izuku swears Kacchan almost trips over himself in an attempt to get his ass in that chair as quickly as possible. "Will you cut my pancakes, Papa?"

Izuku almost answers, purely on instinct, but Kacchan beats him to it, sounding like he just took a punch to the solar plexus, he's so choked up.

"Y-Yeah, Bub. I got you." He's absolutely beaming, and almost certainly crying, Izuku looks away to let him have a moment.

Breakfast passes quietly, but Hisami is more awake with every syrupy bite of his pancakes. By the time he finishes, his mouth and hands are a sticky mess. Kacchan shares a look with him across the table. He's looking very pleased with himself, still high on the wonder of receiving an official dad title.

"Divide and conquer?"

"I'll get the dishes, and you get the gremlin."

They nod, and get to it. It's nice to have someone to divide and conquer with, a small comfort after years of being a single parent. Izuku is still scrubbing half-dried syrup of the plates when Hisami emerges, no longer sticky and dressed in an outfit Kacchan bought him a few weeks ago: cute, army green joggers and a Ground Zero shirt. Even his socks were Ground Zero themed.

Hisami goes straight to one of his notebooks and starts scribbling. Kacchan sidles up to him.

"I think that went well," he says absently, using a tea towel to help with the drying.

"It went great." He smiles, happy that Kacchan is happy. And then, Hisami pipes up from across the room.

"Papa, are you going to live with us now?"

"Spoke too soon," Izuku mutters. He knew the questions would come eventually, once Hisami had more time to think about the ramifications of Kacchan's new title.

"Uh, no. I have my own place, but you can stay with me sometimes," Kacchan says lightly, eyeing Izuku for help. Izuku just gives him an encouraging nod. He's going to have to learn to do this without him. Kacchan wants his own time, his own life with Hisami, and as much as it scares Izuku to give up so much of his own time with Hisami, he knows it's going to have to happen—he knows Kacchan doesn't want to spend any more time with Izuku than strictly necessary. Even if it hurts, just a bit, to think about it.

"But not Papa?"

"It'll be like when you stay with Obaasan, Button. It'll be fun," he says. Hisami grimaces, looking a bit conflicted, but he lets it go. And then, he blurts out the worst possible question.

"Do you love each other? Do you want to make more babies?"

Izuku drops a plate in the sink, and Kacchan chokes on his own saliva. Izuku does the only thing he can do: deflect.

"You're all we need, Button!" His nerves have him practically screeching. "Want some ice cream?" His voice breaks, like a pubescent teenager's, on the last word.

"It's not even lunch time, Papa," Hisami says, giving him a disapproving look. It's also November, and cold out, but Izuku would rather die than answer anymore of his son's questions. In the end, they end up baking cookies, and Kacchan makes his escape around noon. He's delighted when Hisami calls him Papa and kisses his cheek goodbye.

—

Katsuki paves the aisles of a big box store feeling as if he were lost at sea. He got separated from his mother in a place like this when he was about five years old, and he somehow felt more confident back then. He roams the aisles looking for toys Hisami might like, buying the same Frostfire-themed shampoo and bath soap he's seen at Deku's. He buys a toothbrush and sippy cups and a whole host of pajamas, socks, and underwear, a box spring and mattress and a cool, little chair he thought he might like to have.

He wants Hisami's transition into his apartment to go as smoothly as possible. He ordered a dresser and a bed frame last week, set to be delivered tomorrow. Deku offered to help him put it together, but Katsuki's been missing his alone time, and he's desperate to keep Deku as far away from his as possible.

The fucking dreams won't let up. Sometimes, they're more domestic—the three of them at the park, pushing Hisami on the swings, or snuggling on the couch—but some of them are downright _filthy._ And every time he wakes up, sweaty and flustered, the first thing that pops into his head are Hisami's questions: _do you love each other? Do you want to make more babies? _Katsuki would rather never sleep again than have another sexy dream about Deku, but they are persistent and pervasive, and he doesn't know how to make them stop.

Distance, he decides, is the best course of action. Still, they're set to take Hisami shopping for room decor on his next day off. The fact of the matter is that he'll never be able to cut himself off from Deku again, so he'll just have to grin and bear it. Honestly, before the dreams, he was fine spending time with Deku. He didn't hate it at all. It was starting to feel like they could be friends again, and now he can't even look at him without noticing the curve of thighs, or the freckle on his neck, just below his ear, that was just big enough to stand out from all the other ones. He spends a lot of time worshipping that singular freckle in his dreams.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, probably a picture from Deku, he sends them almost constantly nowadays. It buzzes three more times before he checks it. It's a shaky video—Hisami needs to work on his framing skills.

"_Hi, Papa! I miss you, but I have little Papa!" _He brandishes his Ground Zero action figure with the cutest fucking _whoosh_ noise Katsuki's ever heard. He's sitting on Deku's lap, leaning on his chest, so he's fully in frame, and Katsuki can see that damn freckle again. He's also wearing glasses, looking more tired than he's ever seen him. He looks _old._

The other text is clearly from Hisami—a god awful amount of heart emojis, explosions, and—puzzlingly—a dragon. And below it, a text from Deku: _we're both heading to bed. He just wanted to say goodnight._

Katsuki doesn't know what's come over him, but he can't stop himself from texting.

**Katsuki: **_I didn't know you wore glasses._

**Deku: **_I'm full of surprises. Makes me look old right?_

**Katsuki: **_Old as fuck. At least 50._

**Katsuki: **_rough day?_

**Deku: **_I DO NOT look 50!_

**Deku: **_Hisami threw a fit because he couldn't find "little papa." After two hours of screaming and frantic searching I found it in the dryer. Instead of a "Thanks papa I love you" I got a "papa would've found it quicker."_

**Deku: **_the joys of parenting._

Katsuki laughs aloud in the toy aisle. Deku can be funny.

**Katsuki: **_get some sleep. Goodnight Deku._

**Deku: ❤️**

**Deku: **_THAT WAS HISAMI_

**Deku: **_Goodnight from both of us_

He's learned so much about Deku, however unwillingly, in a matter of months—barely even half a year. Deku wears glasses and looks good in a suit. Deku makes a fuckload of money and still lives in a shit apartment because he saves everything for his son's future. Deku has a freckle under his ear and a really sweet ass.

"_Fuck,"_ he mutters, his mind in the gutter again.


	14. Chapter 14

Shopping with a toddler in tow is, put simply, a fucking nightmare. He'd had a dream about this last night, actually, but that dream was far more idyllic than the real thing. In his dream, Hisami sat in the cart, pointing things out and babbling about how excited he was to have a new room, and Katsuki and Deku revolved around him, pulling things off shelves and placing them in the cart—a well-oiled machine.

In reality, Hisami is a holy terror, a little whirlwind of grabby hands and barked orders.

"I want this one," he says, pulling a bedside lamp off of a modest display and brandishing it like a weapon. Deku chastises him for climbing on the display before picking up the boxed lamp he demanded and depositing it in the cart, only for Hisami to whirl away and change his mind about the lamp ten seconds later, citing a new, better lamp. Katsuki sighs. At this rate, they'd all die of old age before Hisami decides on anything.

"What color do you like, Bubba?" Katsuki asks, in an attempt to get Hisami moving in one cohesive direction. When he said he wanted him to pick the things for his room, he never thought of the consequences, or how short his son's attention span truly was.

"I like green, like Papa's hair, or orange like Ground Zero Papa," he says, climbing on the cart like a particularly motivated monkey. Katsuki pries him off the side of the cart and sets him in the kid seat. Hisami grimaces at his shopping cart prison, immediately trying to work his legs out of the little holes.

"Okay, so you want a Ground Zero room?"

Hisami nods, still squirming in the cart. The lamp currently tucked away in the cart is a garish yellow, so he tosses the offending piece of furniture back at Deku, and he wordlessly places it back on the shelf. He can tell Deku is trying not to laugh at him. He'd been taking a backseat today—more so than usual—content to let Katsuki police Hisami's behavior.

"Alright, here's the deal, Bub. You keep your tiny butt in this seat," he pauses, and pats the handlebars of the cart for emphasis. "And I'll make sure you get all the coolest Ground Zero stuff there is. Got it?"

"But you said I could pick!"

"Of course you get to pick. It's your room—you just get to pick it from _right here,"_ he says, poking a finger into Hisami's belly for emphasis. He giggles and squirms, but he stays put.

"Okay, Papa," he says, looking sheepish. Deku gives Katsuki a thumbs up and an approving smile before he calls for Hisami's attention, holding up two lamps, a green one, and an orange one.

"Hey, Button. This one or this one?"

"That one!"

—

Once they manage to keep Hisami in place, and only giving him so many options, things go much more smoothly. Katsuki had no idea he had so much merch. He doesn't remember signing off on bedsheets patterned with cartoonish bombs and explosions, or throw blanket with his signature orange _X_, but there they were, and they were going in his son's room because he _chose_ them. Katsuki beams at the thought, and he catches Deku staring at him, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Shut up," he says, a preemptive strike for whatever dumb shit Deku is about to say.

"I'm glad you're enjoying this. You're good at it, you know," he says softly, his eyes on Hisami. He's occupying himself by picking out a new night light, and it's surprising just how long it's taking him. Katsuki can hear him faintly muttering a pro and con list, hunching over the two packages.

"I'm a fucking dad, Deku," he says, a bit incredulous. It's a stupid thing to say, since he's technically been a dad for a while. "It's official."

Deku laughs at him, and it doesn't even bother Katsuki.

"Would you like a laminated card? Bakugo Katsuki, Dad. You can hand it out so everyone knows."

"Fuck off," he mutters, just low enough for Hisami not to hear it. There's no venom in his words, though. He's on cloud nine and not even Deku can bring him down.

"Anything else you think we need?" Deku asks, sensing that Katsuki's done with humoring him.

"You think he'd like to paint the room?"

"I think he'd like to paint everything but the walls. Probably not a good idea."

Katsuki _hmms_ and decides to let it go. Instead, he goes to help Hisami with his night light decision. He's read to get home—to show Hisami is home for the first time. Hopefully the damn cat doesn't act up.

—

The cat is, blessedly, not an issue. On the contrary, it comes out from one of its many hideyholes to stare beadily at Hisami. Katsuki gapes at the thing—he hasn't actually seen his cat since he brought it home _two years_ ago. It's uglier than he remembers. Mangey blonde fur and a grumpy expression.

"A kitty cat!" Hisami screeches, but he approaches slowly, making himself smaller.

"Uh, Bub, be careful. He might not like people."

"Might?" Deku squeaks, his parental senses tingling. He starts to move toward Hisami to save him from a possibly vicious cat. To everyone's surprise, the cat pushes its ugly face into Hisami's outstretched hand. He giggles.

"Papa, he looks like you!" Hisami pulls the stupid cat into his lap and buries his face in its fur.

"_Hah?"_

Deku bursts out laughing and moves to sit beside Hisami. Katsuki feels vindicated when the stupid cat hisses and tries to scratch him.

"What's his name?"

"He doesn't have one."

"You have a pet, and you never named it?" Deku raises an eyebrow in his direction.

"Oi, it just ran into my apartment one day. He does his own thing." This is a bold faced lie, but Deku doesn't have to know that.

"And then you bought it cat food. Therefore, it's a pet."

Katsuki is about to argue when Hisami practically wails, tears in his eyes, "Papa, can I name him?"

"Sure, Bub. Deku, help me with the boxes."

They go out in the hall for all of five minutes and when they return, boxes in hand, Hisami is sprawled out on the floor with the cat laying on his stomach, staring at him.

"I named him Cheeto," Hisami says dreamily.

"Why?"

"'Cause I'm hungry," he murmurs, scratching under the cat's neck. "Papa, do you have Cheetos?"

Katsuki shares a dubious look with Deku. He shrugs, as if this is totally normal.

"I'm not fucking calling him Cheeto," he grumbles. Deku just laughs. They get to work unloading boxes and washing sheets and Hisami's new clothes.

The entire time they work, Hisami lays on the bare mattress, curled up with _Cheeto_. Eventually he passes out, and Katsuki continues working alongside Deku in companionable silence. Katsuki can't help but feel giddy. Even if Hisami doesn't seem to care much about his room, he's in his apartment. He has his own things, his own furniture, and a burgeoning relationship with his reclusive cat. He feels comfortable enough to sleep, at least.

He's not dumb enough to think this won't come with its own set of challenges, but for now, it feels like a triumph. Katsuki is a _dad._ His son his happy, for the moment. And he has Deku, somehow. They're not really friends, they're not really anything, but he knows he can trust him. Maybe someday they'll be more than tentative acquaintances bumbling through a crash course in co-parenting, but for now, this is enough.

If Katsuki wasn't so preoccupied with celebrating all the things he'd won, maybe he would've noticed how sad Deku looked.


	15. Chapter 15

"You ready, Button?" Izuku asks as he knocks on Kacchan's door. Hisami nods feverishly. He's too excited for words, bouncing from foot to foot, his Frostfire backpack with all his favorite things rattling around inside. The door opens and Hisami bolts to his room with a squealed, "Hi, Papa! Where's Cheeto?"

Izuku stays in the hallways until Kacchan steps aside to let him in, a bit reluctantly. Izuku is just as reluctant to hang around. Now that they've changed their custody plans, he knows Kacchan isn't required to spend any time with him, or to be friendly. Cordial and distant seems to be the way he wants to play it, so that's what they'll do. Still, they can't not talk to each other.

"Uh, your publicist called me," he says, by way of a greeting.

"Shit, yeah, I forgot to warn you. She's kinda…"

"Strident?"

"I was going to say _bitchy,_ but I drink my respect women juice." He gives a bit of a feral grin, which leads Izuku to think he isn't entirely serious. He gives a weak smile back. His publicist's onslaught of personal questions left him feeling a bit raw—and he was already feeling raw and weird about the day. Hisami's first overnight with Kacchan feels like the beginning of some very lonely nights. Izuku doesn't know what he's going to do with all this _time._

"She put you through the ringer?" Kacchan asks, bringing him back to the moment at hand. He shrugs because he has no business unloading on Kacchan. He's got enough to worry about without stupid Deku whinging at him.

"Nah, you gave a perfect cover story," he says, and he means it. Kacchan weaved a convincing tale. Childhood friends turned lovers. Apparently, they dated a few years after high school, fell in love, thought they'd be together forever, so they decided to have a baby—and then life and work and success got in the way. Now, they amicably co-parent, and Kacchan wants a bigger role in his son's life, now that he's settled more into hero work. His publicist seemed unconvinced—he could just tell by the way she spat words like _romance _and _love _and _baby_ with a nasty edge. In her defense, he couldn't really see Kacchan in love, either, but he did his best to corroborate the story on such short notice.

"You excited for this weekend?" Izuku asks, doing his best to shove all thoughts of the publicist and their fake romance aside.

"Assuming he doesn't freak out as soon as you leave, yeah. How's he been this morning?"

"Excited for a sleepover with Papa. I'm sure everything will go well, but call me if you need anything. I, uh," he pauses, gives a little laugh that sounds more bitter and self-deprecating than he'd like. "I'm free all weekend."

"Go do something fun, Deku. Don't worry about us." Kacchan says it lightly, almost like an attempt to be comforting, but it kind of leaves him reeling.

He can't remember the last time he did anything that wasn't with, or about, Hisami in some way. He thinks he went on a date a year ago, and it was so horrible he never thought about doing it again. Maybe he'll _go_ somewhere—somewhere quiet that he'd never be able to take a three year old.

"I will. Good luck."

He kisses his son goodbye for the weekend, and receives a half-hearted _I love you_ for his efforts. He's busy with his notebook already, Cheeto pawing at his scattered crayons, and can't be bothered. He's not so selfish that he actively wishes Hisami will throw a fit at bedtime without him. He truly hopes everything goes well.

—

Katsuki couldn't be more thrilled with the way things are going. This might be the most well-behaved Hisami has ever been. They settled into the same routine they once had at Deku's. Hisami does what he wants until it's time to help him cook dinner, and he helps as much as Katsuki will allow, babbling on about one silly thing or another.

He's obsessed with Cheeto, and Cheeto seems to be obsessed with him. He's never seen the stupid cat around the house so much. At first, he was worried Hisami might be allergic to him with his teary eyes and runny nose, and then he remembered that his son is just as much a crybaby as his father.

"He's making biscuits, Papa," he whispers, all but sobbing as Cheeto purrs and kneads his legs while they eat dinner. Katsuki laughs and shoos the damn cat away so Hisami will stop blubbering into his curry.

—

Later, after their dinner has settled and the dishes are done, Hisami's dramatics come to the forefront. He rolls around on the floor, moaning like the world is ending.

"What's wrong, Bub?"

"My poops are spicy, but I love curry so much," he whines, the beginnings of tears in his eyes, looking far more conflicted than any three year old has a right to be. He rolls over to crawl towards Katsuki on the couch, looking for comfort. Katsuki barks a laugh, pulls his son into his lap, and rubs his upset tummy.

"Don't I know it, Bubba," he says, sympathetic to his plight. "Allow me to introduce you to Pepto Bismol."

Hisami gets a second wind around seven, after his _pink magic juice _has taken effect. He demands that Katsuki color with him, handing him a fistful of crayons and a Frostfire coloring book. Katsuki reluctantly obeys, coloring Todoroki's stupid hair while Hisami draws in his notebook.

Hisami is so engrossed in his drawing, he doesn't notice Katsuki peek at his work. Hisami scribbles his name in purple crayon, the sloppy kanji at the top of a crudely drawn image of himself. He's holding hands with two tall stick figures that are clearly meant to be him and Deku. He smiles broadly, imagining putting in on the fridge to look at every morning and night.

"Do you know how to write your Papa's name?"

Hisami shakes his head, and holds the purple crayon out for him to help.

"Alright, I'm going to show you something really cool, Bub. Check this out." He takes the crayon and pulls the the notebook to sit between them. He writes half of Deku's name above his stick figure, the character he shares with Hisami's name. He does the same with the character in his name above his own stick figure. Hisami seems incredibly flummoxed, and slightly pissed that Katsuki had the nerve to fuck up his drawing.

"That's my name, Dummy-san," he grumbles, crossing his arms and pouting. He's noticed that whenever Hisami is upset with him he goes from _Papa_ to _Icky_ or _Dummy _in five seconds flat.

"Oi! I'm not done yet," Katsuki says. Impatience is clearly an inherited trait when it comes to Hisami. He should be studied as a testament to nature versus nurture. He finishes the rest of the kanji for both names. Hisami stares at it for a moment, and Katsuki wonders if he understands the point he's trying to get across.

"My name is your name is Papa's name?"

"Yeah, Bubba. Let's go with that." He smiles and ruffles his son's hair. "Ready for bathtime?"

"No bathtime, Papa," he says, coloring in Deku's hair.

"Yes, bathtime. No arguing. You smell like the damn cat."

"Language! Can Cheeto get in the bath?"

Katsuki laughs, feeling light and airy. He's never laughed so freely, smiled so much. He's blissfully happy, and it's all because of his wonderful, ridiculous son.


	16. Chapter 16

"Want to go see Obaasan and Ojiisan, today?"

"Ojiisan? I have one of those?"

"Yeah. My mom and dad. Remember Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru?"

"Obaasan and Ojiisan?" Hisami looks pleased, if not a bit surprised by his ever-growing circle of family members. They get dressed for the day and head out.

Hisami's got stars in his eyes as they walk into the yard of Katsuki's childhood home. Katsuki feels a bit bad blindsiding his parents like this, but Deku agreed to let him handle this himself, and Katsuki's never been one for careful conversation. His parent's—or better, his mother—isn't one for careful conversation either, so he figures it's best to just do the damn thing. He just hopes she won't throw a fit around Hisami. He has panicky flashbacks of when he told Kirishima and Ashido as he knocks on the door, but he forces them away.

His dad answers the door, and to Katsuki's horror, Hisami attaches himself to his dad's leg, little hands gripping onto his khakis, and says, "Did you know you're my Ojiisan?"

His dad's easy, heartfelt response is even more surprising.

"I did. Go say hello to Obaasan. She's in the living room." His dad's smile betrays no confusion or shock, and Hisami flies away, his backpack bouncing with his steps. His dad turns his gaze on Katsuki, and some small, leftover portion of his childlike self curls up inside him, terrified of disappointing his dad.

"Surprise?" He says weakly.

"Not really. Kid's a dead ringer for you. Smart of you to bring him in case your mom blew a gasket, though."

"Yeah, that was the idea. She… she knows, too?"

"Let's talk inside."

Katsuki walks into his childhood home feeling like he's walking to the gallows. Hisami is sitting on his mother's lap, showing her the doodles in his notebook. She looks happy enough, rubbing her grandson's back as he points out all his wonky drawings. When she notices Katsuki enter the room, she glares at him, but it's not nearly as hostile as he imagined it would be.

"I love your pictures, Bubba," she says, and it's the softest she's ever spoken in her life, Katsuki's sure of it.

"Papa calls me Bubba," Hisami says, as if the nickname is in any way unique.

"Your Papa was our Bubba when he was little. Do you want to go make a mess of his room?"

"Yes!" Hisami wiggles off his grandma's lap and bolts up the stairs. Katsuki wonders what kind of hell he's going to walk into up there when his parents are done reaming him out. The air is tense and silent once Hisami disappears, but Katsuki is desperate not to be the first to speak.

"Alright, brat. I want to hear it from your mouth." His mother is staring him down, effectively putting the fear of god in him.

"Hisami is biologically mine, and Deku and I worked out a custody agreement," he blurts out, unable to play it cool. His mom curses and his dad looks almost smug. She storms out of the room, huffing and fuming, and Katsuki is certain she's going to come back with some kind of weapon. She doesn't, she comes back seconds later, rifling through her purse. She throws a wad of yen notes at her husband with extreme prejudice, and he calmly watches them rain down on him. Katsuki feels like he's entered an alternate reality.

"I knew it," his dad says, smiling wide.

"Goddamn it. I hate losing."

"Don't worry, dear. I lost, too. Inko won the overall pool. Five months from the dinner—like clockwork."

Katsuki gapes at them. Here he was, thinking his dad would be sobbing, and his mom would be throwing chairs, hissing with rage, and they knew all along.

"You really knew the whole time and you never told me?"

"No, only when we saw you two at dinner. It was pretty obvious when you were right in front of us," his mom complains, sitting back down on the couch and tossing her purse away.

"That doesn't weird you out?"

"We had a grandparent meeting about it. Inko was pretty horrified that Izuku would do something like that, but you've always been weirdly obsessed with each other," she says, and the tense line of her shoulders tells Katsuki that she's already had her own freak out about it, and let it go, just like Katsuki has.

"I was never weirdly obsessed with Deku," he barks, offended at the accusation.

"You used to come home from school and bitch about him for hours. Don't fucking lie to me, kid."

Katsuki pouts. It's true that Deku used to take up a lot of space in his mind, but once he'd gotten to UA that'd changed. Out of sight, out of mind, as it were. Maybe all his sex dreams about Deku were really about his unresolved—unwelcome—feelings about him.

"Anyway, we love that kid, and now I don't have to wait for you to get your shit together to give us a grandbaby. Seems like a win, win to me."

"We don't mean to be insensitive. You seem to be happy about it, so we just figured we wouldn't comment on it. Did you...need to talk about it more seriously?"

Katsuki pauses, thinking over everything they said. This… isn't at all what he expected. Honestly, this is more what he wished would've happened when he told Kirishima and Ashido. He should probably call them back. Their conversation has been stilted and awkward, but the shower is coming up, and he isn't such a bad friend that he would miss that.

"No, I've kind of decided not to be pissed about it. I love Hisami." He didn't realize it was true until he said it. This, though, he was certain of. He doesn't know how he fits together with Deku, but Hisami is a no brainer. "I'm relieved that you're not throwing a fit."

"That's not going to help anyone. We want to support you," his dad says. His mom is silent, and Katsuki remembers that old adage about saying nothing if you don't have anything nice to say.

"I appreciate that," Katsuki says, and when he says it, it's like a weight has been lifted off of him. Maybe his friends aren't all that keen on the new additions to his life, but at least he can depend on his parents.

"You want some lunch, brat?"

He can tell that his mom isn't taking this all that well, so he nods, and let's her escape. His dad's eyes press into Katsuki, the way they always do when he knows Katsuki's teetering over an edge. His dad has a way with him and his mom that breaks through their crunchy exteriors and gets straight to the hidden, gooey center.

"How are you, really, Katsuki?"

He blows out a big sigh, and lets himself melt into the couch. This went well enough, and that's a relief, but he's not sure if he can actually make himself talk about this. He's kept it bottled for so long, it's a natural reaction to hold it in.

"I'm coping. This is our first weekend in my apartment, without Deku, and it's going well. I'm fucking tired, though. I don't know how he does it."

"How are things with you two?"

"As good as can be expected."

"That doesn't tell me anything. Be honest. I can't imagine you were happy about this right off the bat."

"It's been fucking hard, Dad. I never wanted this, and I definitely didn't want this with Deku, but now that I have it…"

His dad waits, lets him collect himself. He's good about knowing when to push and when to wait.

"I don't know. I just keep thinking that Hisami wouldn't be Hisami if he wasn't half me and half Deku. I don't know what to do about Deku, but what we're doing is working, I guess. He's a good dad." Katsuki shrugs because he doesn't know what to say. Whenever Katsuki tries to put into words what he feels for or about Deku, he finds that he can't do it. He gets flustered and angry and confused. And the dreams aren't helping.

"I keep having sex dreams about him, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Uh," his dad says, and Katsuki is horrified. This is not the way he wanted to come out to his dad. He hates how easy it is to talk to him—this is why he avoids it at all costs. He just says shit without thinking.

"Christ," he says, dragging a hand down his face. "Forget I said that. Deku and I are fine. That's it."

"Clearly, that's not it. Are you trying to tell me you're attracted to him?"

"No." Katsuki shakes his head emphatically, like if he shakes it hard enough it will dislodge the thoughts from his brain. "I just… fuck."

"Indeed," his dad says, laughing lightly and sipping from a cooled cup of tea. Katsuki rolls his eyes, and just then his son appears, and he's never been so happy to see him.

"Papa, I found markers!"

"I see that," he says, laughing. Hisami has stripped down to his Ground Zero underwear, and he's absolutely covered in marker scribbles. "I hope they weren't permanent."

"Look, I drew you, and Papa, and there's all my Obaasans and Ojiisan," he says, pointing at the family portrait on his tummy.

"And what's this?" He asks, poking a finger in Hisami's bicep.

"A tattoo! Just like Papa."

"Oh," he says, because he's having a bit of a crisis imagining how his dreams are going to change now that he knows Deku has a tattoo. He wonders what it looks like because the blob on Hisami's arm is unintelligible. His dad seems to sense that he's reeling, so he steps in.

"Let's go get you cleaned up, Bubba."

Katsuki gives him a grateful look before he wanders away to the kitchen. He doesn't necessarily want to check on his mom, but he feels like he needs to. She's angrily chopping vegetables, wielding a giant knife like a professional chef.

"Hey, Ma. Anything I can help with?"

"Are you okay?" She blurts, and Katsuki notices she's all misty eyed. In his twenty eight years of life, he's never seen his mom cry.

"I'm fine," he says evenly. Even if he wasn't, he'd say he's fine. He's uneasy with how affected she is by all this. "Everything is fine."

"I can't believe what he did. And you didn't know. Three years of your kid's life and you'll never get it back!" She's waving the knife around absently as she talks. Finally, the tosses the thing away and it sticks straight up in the wooden cutting board. Katsuki feels like he can breathe a bit easier. "I didn't know until I saw you together and it was so fucking obvious, I've been beating myself up about not seeing it sooner."

"I know. That doesn't matter, though."

"I'd kick him in the nads if I thought it'd make you feel better, or help anything. You seem to be taking it well." His mom submissively ducks her head and forced Katsuki into a hug. This is bad. He can count on one hand the amount of times his mom has hugged him in the last twenty years, and they've all happened after villain attacks, hospital stays, and natural disasters. Hugging him now is effectively equating Hisami's existence with a near death experience.

"Don't cry. It's a shock, but I'm really happy. I love that kid, and so do you," he says softly. He's been taller and broader than his mother for years. She's always been small, but she's never seemed fragile to him until now. He really is in an alternate reality, one where his mom cries, and Katsuki is a comforting son. He tries for some levity.

"Jeez, Ma, I didn't know you were such a damn crybaby. Between you and Deku, I'm going to drown before the year is through."

"Don't say his name. I'm so fucking pissed at him," she says, face still buried in his chest. Her hands fist the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't be. I've yelled at him enough for a lifetime. We're working it out."

"Are you really advocating for not yelling at your self-proclaimed mortal enemy?" His mom scoffs, and he hopes that means she's starting to feel better. He laughs too, at the reminder of his youth.

"Pretty sure I was eight and stupid when I called him that. He's not so bad."

Once again, he's fallen into the trap of protecting Deku from people who want to be outraged on Katsuki's behalf. The role fits easier than it did the last time. He wonders if this is just going to be part of his life from now on, defending Deku until it becomes second nature. He's surprised by how little he minds it.

Eventually, things settle, and his mom pulls herself together enough to dry her eyes. It helps that Dad and Hisami reappear in the kitchen, and his mom is distracted by his delightful babbling and attempts at helping her cook.

The Bakugo house has never seen so much emotion in one day. It feels like something positive, instead of suffocating and strange. They eat lunch, and Hisami soon falls into a food-induced nap in his childhood bed. Just as he's closed the door to his room, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Bro! Please come over. Mina and I just got everything set up in the new house, and we'd really like you to come see it."

Fuck, he forgot they moved. He was supposed to help them with that. It's jarring just how much he misses his friends, and how much he's missed while he's been dealing with his own life. He's still a bit mad at them for the things that were said the last time they got together, but he wants to be there for them while their lives are drastically changing.

"Uh, I have Hisami this weekend," he says, in lieu of a definitive answer.

"Bring him! We can use him to make sure the house is sufficiently baby safe!"

"Oi, my kid is not your guinea pig," he barks, fatherly protectiveness rising in his chest.

"I know, I know. Too soon for jokes. My bad, man. Seriously, though, come over. I really want to apologize in person and put this behind us."

"Hisami's down for a nap right now. I'll see how he's feeling when he wakes up, and let you know."


	17. Chapter 17

Hisami wakes from his nap about an hour later, fully refreshed, but a bit cranky. He has this shitty little pout on his face that reminds Katsuki so much of himself it's hilarious. He can't stop laughing. He's giddy and light in the oddest way, and he knows it's because he's finally talked about this with someone other than Deku. He feels supported in a way he's never felt before, and it leaves him almost delirious.

"Papa, don't laugh at me!" Hisami bangs a tiny fist on the couch cushion.

"I'm not laughing at you, Bub," he says, even though he absolutely is. He tries to school is face into something a bit more serious. "Do you want to go home, or do you want to meet some of my friends for dinner?"

"You have friends?"

Katsuki frowns, and his traitorous parents howl with laughter. Hisami gives a small smile, but hides it behind his hands until he gets his pout back in place—he's determined to hang on to his shitty mood.

"'Course I have friends! They're heroes, too."

"Frostfire?" Hisami breathes the word like a prayer, and just the idea of him has Hisami abandoning his foul mood entirely.

"No. Red Riot and Pinky," Katsuki says, waiting for the inevitable excitement. Hisami scowls.

"_Who?"_

There have been very few times in his life in which Katsuki has been utterly _speechless._ He takes a few seconds to compose himself because he doesn't want to laugh at Hisami's brazen lack of giving a shit. Honestly, a bit of pride kindles in his chest—this is classic Bakugo behavior. Every time his son acts a bit more like him, he feels validated, somehow.

"They're dumb, but they want to meet you. Sound good?"

"I guess. Are you sure we can't go to Frostfire's house instead?"

"I'm positive. Sorry, Bub."

Hisami pouts the whole way to Kirishima's and Ashido's new place. It's just outside of the city proper, on a large, lush plot of land, complete with an idyllic, cliched white picket fence. It's a nice place to raise a kid, and Katsuki fleetingly entertains thoughts of living in a place like this with Hisami—and then he realizes that he imagines Deku there, as well, and shoves the thought away.

"Bakubro! And little dude, hey!"

Hisami stares at Kirishima, but offers no words of greeting. He's clearly unimpressed. He turns to Katsuki, and beckons him down to his level so he can whisper in his ear.

"This man is a clown, Papa."

Katsuki snickers into his hand. Post-nap Hisami gives no fucks about anything.

"What makes you say that?"

"Dumb hair," he mutters, eyes shifting to Kirishima for just a second. Katsuki could melt from the intense pride he feels radiating out of him. His son is too much like him.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Bub," he says, ruffling Hisami's hair before standing to his full height. "This is Hisami. Hisami, this is Kirishima, the hero, Red Riot."

Kirishima sits on his haunches, face to face with Hisami, his usual beaming smile in full view.

"Hi, Hisami! I've heard a lot about you." He holds his knuckles out for a very _bro_ fistbump.

"I don't know a Red Riot," Hisami says primly, holding his Frostfire plush a bit tighter, and refusing to bump Kirishima's fist.

"I'm… the number nine hero…" he says, baffled—and vaguely hurt, if Katsuki's not mistaken.

"Do you know Frostfire?"

"Yes," Kirishima says tentatively, like he doesn't know if that's the correct answer.

"He's the only hero I care about. And Ground Zero, but I have to love Papa."

Kirishima guffaws, and Katsuki grimaces. He hopes Hisami is just trying to be cute, otherwise Katsuki will have spent an obscene amount of money on Ground Zero room decor that Hisami only feels obligated to like.

"Clown-san, who's that pink lady?" Hisami says, apparently done with Kirishima because he's looking past him to where Ashido rests on the couch, her large belly peeking out from under her shirt. She waves, clearly not ready to move to greet them. He wanders off to speak to Ashido, and he immediately comments on her baby bump. He's obsessed with her belly, and asks to hold it shortly after introducing himself. Ashido looks delighted with him—he must've been kinder to her.

"Clown? I'm _Clown?"_

Katsuki laughs as he steps through the threshold of their new home. It's cavernous and open, but still cozy. He can tell everything isn't quite in its place yet, but it looks great.

"Yep. Those nicknames stick, too."

"Why am I a clown?"

"He says your hair is dumb," Katsuki says, absolutely beaming as he follows Kirishima to the kitchen. He kindly puts a beer in his hand. Katsuki doesn't waste any time popping off the cap and taking a swig.

"Goddamn, he really is your kid," he says, chuckling. "What's his obsession with Todoroki about?"

"You know, that's a good fucking question," Katsuki says. "Oi, Hisami, why do you like Frostfire so much?"

Hisami doesn't miss a beat. His little head pops up over the back of the couch.

"Papa and I think he's pretty!"

Katsuki makes an awkward choking noise and Kirishima smacks him on the back to get him breathing again.

"_Hah?"_

"Papa said _he can warm me up anytime!_ But I think his ice is better." Hisami shrugs, the innuendo going completely over his head, and Katsuki chokes on a laugh again, sounding like a dying walrus.

"I guess that answers that," Kirishima says, snickering around the mouth of his bottle.

"Deku doesn't think I'm pretty?" Katsuki teases, not quite done messing with Deku. He'd never pass up a chance to hold this over his head. And… he's curious. Todoroki isn't the only pretty hero out there.

"No one is as pretty as Frostfire, Papa. Don't be embarrassing," he says, mispronouncing _embarrassing _and rolling his eyes. He hears Ashido squeal.

"Baku, I _love_ this kid. You need some ice for that burn?"

"Fuck off," he barks, somehow in good humor, and Ashido throws a middle finger up over the back of the couch.

"Language, Icky-san! You have to be nice to pregnant ladies! They're goddesses!"

"Yeah, idiot!" Ashido yells, egging Hisami on. He giggles and pats her hair.

"I like you, Pink-chan. You're pretty."

Katsuki shrugs and drinks his beer. They'll need to talk soon, but why not guilt them with how cute Hisami is? They settle on the couch with Hisami and Ashido, and catch up. It almost feels like they never fought, and Katsuki hasn't been AWOL for months.

—

Izuku is enveloped in _quiet. _It's almost eerie. He half expects Hisami to pop out from nowhere, yelling about Frostfire or begging to put off bedtime for another thirty minutes. That won't happen, of course, because he's alone. He's sitting in a chair in a bookstore, and it's surreal. He hasn't been in a quiet bookstore in years, but he remembers spending all his free time in this very chair before Hisami was born.

He should be enjoying this. He _wants_ to be enjoying this, but he can't stop thinking about Hisami—what he's doing, where he's going with Kacchan, if he misses Izuku at all.

"Midoriya?"

Izuku turns his head at the sound of his name. It's someone from his parents group. Taikutsuna Shiro doesn't quite stand out in the group. He's nice, but a bit forgettable—though, he's sure that what everyone else in group would say about Izuku, himself. He gives a polite smile, and his fluffy, white hair turns a soft pink. He hasn't asked for the specifics of Taikutsuna's Quirk, but he knows it's called Mood. Apparently, his hair and eyes change color with his feelings. It seems like a really embarrassing Quirk to talk in-depth about, so Izuku has refrained from peppering him with too many questions.

"Hey," he says, closing the book in his hands—he wasn't really reading it anyway. He's far too busy thinking.

"I've never seen you outside of group meetings. How've you been? I know your ex is back in the picture. That can be… tough." His hair turns pale blue, and deepens steadily in color as he seats himself in the chair across from Izuku.

"Uh, yeah. This is my first weekend without Hisami. I kind of don't know what to do with myself," he says, self-consciously, looking away from Taikutsuna's ever-changing hair color. "You… you share custody with your ex, right?"

Izuku feels bad having to ask. He's loathe to admit that he finds him a bit boring at times, and he often gets lost in his own thoughts when he's talking during the meetings. His hair turns black for a moment, before melting into pink again. It's very distracting. Taikutsuna nods.

"Yeah, it's tough at first. If you ever need to distract yourself and get out of your apartment, I'm pretty good at finding distractions around the city. I could give you my number?" His pale pink hair deepens into a hot pink that Izuku can't help but stare at.

"I might take you up on that. I need distractions right now."

Taikutsuna smiles warmly, and his hair flickers between orange and yellow and pale pink. Izuku can't help but laugh at it. If anything, his wild hair will be a good distraction, even if the conversation is boring.

—

"He's a great kid, Bakugo." Kirishima says, smiling widely after Hisami and Mina playing on the lawn. His face falls before he turns his guilty gaze on Katsuki. "I'm sorry for everything Mina and I said. We should've known you had it all handled."

Katsuki shrugs. He doesn't really want to talk about this anymore. He wants to move on from this bump in their friendship, and enjoy the time he's got with his kid and his friends. Ashido and Hisami get on like a house on fire, and the constant barbs he throws at Clown-san are hilarious. He feels warm and light and he doesn't want to ruin it.

"I don't have it handled, really. I'm still working through everything, but… there are more important things than being angry."

Kirishima has the audacity to laugh. He clinks his beer bottle against Katsuki's for no apparent reason, like he's toasting him.

"When did you become such a grown up?"

"I've always been a grown up, asshole," he grumbles and sips his beer.

"No, you haven't. You've always been a grumpy, old man, but you've never exactly been mature. I've never seen you like this—so grounded."

"Not to sound condescending, 'cause what the fuck do I know after being a dad for a few months, but you'll find out once your kid comes." Katsuki feels like he's aged at least ten years in the last five months. Kirishima is right. Bumbling through fatherhood is a very grounding, humbling experience—and Katsuki can't remember the last time he's been down with being humbled.

"I'm fucking nervous, dude. You've got to help us out."

"I'm as clueless as you when it comes to babies. I know Deku would help you, though, if you really need it."

For some reason, the thought of Deku integrating himself into his friends' lives doesn't irk him. It'd be nice to have the two biggest forces in his lives collide without it ending badly. He's come to terms with the fact that Deku _is_ a big portion of his life, even if it's awkward and tentative.

"Does he know what we said about him?" Kirishima frowns, obviously uncomfortable with anyone thinking he's cruel. Katsuki nods. He's not going to work double time to make him feel better. Assuming they every actually meet, Deku the doormat sure as shit won't hold him accountable, so Katsuki will have to. Kirishima looks a bit off, like he's surprised and sad that Deku knows. He clears his throat.

"Well, the shower is coming up. Deku is welcome to come with you. Hisami, too, of course. Todoroki and Momo are bringing the twins."

"Uh, we don't really do shit like that—go places together, I mean. Not unless it's for Hisami."

"He's part of your life, Bakugo. No getting around it. Do what you want—we just don't want you to feel like you have to hide him from us."

"I'll ask him," he says, knowing full well that he won't accept.


	18. Chapter 18

Katsuki is picking up dinner at a popular ramen shop after a short, unexpected patrol shift. He's in a mood because he's not supposed to work when he has Hisami—he made that _very_ clear with his agency at the start of all this, and it only took three Hisami weekends before they fucked up his schedule. He made sure to yell at whoever put him on-call for the weekend. His parents were more than happy to watch him for a few hours, and he figured he'd thank them by bringing home dinner. And then he sees familiar green hair while waiting for his order.

He often wonders what Deku does with his free time. He wonders who he spends it with, if he has any real friends. When he sees him sitting at a table, smiling at some lanky, pink-haired idiot, he feels a rush of surprise and anger. Deku's entitled to his own life, but he thought he'd at least tell him he was dating someone. Does this guy spend time with Hisami when he's not around? Does Hisami like this guy? The idea of being replaced by some stranger works him into a lather.

He boldly walks up to Deku's table and interrupts their date. Deku's eyes bug out of his head at the sight of him. His idiot date's hair is like a blinking strobe light. It was a vibrant pink before he walked up, but now it's fire red, like Kirishima's, then black, then back to red.

"Can I talk to your for a second?"

"Uh, right now? I'm kind of…" He trails off, and looks pointedly at his date, as if Kacchan is missing something obvious. He's not—he just doesn't give a shit.

"It's important," he says blandly, allowing himself to spare a glance at his date—who's hair is now just as green as Deku's. Deku apologizes and excuses himself from the table. When they make it far enough away, Katsuki starts in.

"You on a date with that clown? Christ, Deku he looks like a fucking traffic light."

Deku snorts, but he looks vaguely annoyed.

"Did you actually have something important to say? Everything's okay with Hisami, right?"

"Yeah, I'm picking up dinner. We're eating with my parents tonight, but no one wanted to cook. Why didn't you tell me about your date?"

"It's not a date—and, no offense, but it's also none of your business."

"If he spends time with Hisami, it's my business."

"He doesn't. I mean, we're in that parents group together, so they've met briefly, but that's it. Hisami doesn't meet anyone I date. I hope you'd stick to the same rule, too."

"You think I have time to date?"

"I hadn't really thought about it." Deku's got that same look on his face—the one he had the day of the petting zoo. Blank, cool, easy—which obviously means he's feeling anything but cool and easygoing.

"I just… don't really get why you'd keep this from me."

"I honestly didn't think you'd care. I just needed a friend to lean on in all this. He's in the same boat—custody stuff."

"You talk to him about me?" Katsuki splutters, feeling suddenly exposed.

"Of course not. It's just nice to spend time with someone instead of being in my empty apartment. This transition… it hasn't been easy." Deku looks away and crosses his arms self-consciously, and Katsuki feels a pang of guilt. Katsuki never really thought about how Deku's life was changing. Going from being a single parent to having his son four days a week. It had to be agonizing, coming home to an empty, Hisami-less apartment—and Katsuki never thought twice about it. Suddenly, Katsuki is struck by just how little Deku shows him, shares with him. He thinks of all the little warnings he's thrown Katsuki's way.

_Getting the brush off from your son hurts._

_Parenting can be isolating._

They were warning for himself as much as they were for Katsuki. There's always a veneer of calm accommodation and repentant politeness that Katsuki never bothered to look past, and it's such a piss-poor way to treat him after all he's done to make sure Katsuki is comfortable.

"You can lean on me. That's why we're doing this."

"Okay," he says, a tight, half-assed smile on his face. He knows Deku well enough to know when he's placating him.

"I mean it, Deku. You need to talk to me about shit. This goes both ways. I'm… I'm here for you, too."

Deku looks as if Katsuki just punched a hole in his chest and ripped out his heart.

"Yeah. I've got to go. I'll see you for pick up tomorrow."

Katsuki feels heavy and discombobulated, as if he had just realized he had lost something important.

When he gets back to his parents' house, he's sulking like a teenager. His parents notice and his mom is quick to comment on it.

"Jeez, who pissed in your ramen?"

"Fuck off," he mutters, shoving a swirl of disappointment, and maybe something like jealousy, down to the pit of his stomach, where it's easier to ignore.

—

"Everything alright?" Taikutsuna's hair is an unpleasant, acidic green. Izuku nods and settles back into his seat.

"Just some stuff about Hisami. It really could've waited. I'm sorry about that."

"All good. So, that was your ex?" His prying question turns his hair hot pink before changing back to green. Izuku wishes he knew what the colors meant. He nods, and takes a giant mouthful of hot ramen, so he doesn't have to talk. Izuku finds that he stutters awkwardly every time he refers to Kacchan as his ex boyfriend.

"Ground Zero… wow," he says, breathing the last word.

"What?" Izuku asks, suddenly self-conscious. He knows it's hard to believe their flimsy love story—how could anyone like Izuku catch the eye of the number five hero?—but he doesn't have to comment on it. Izuku is slightly annoyed.

"It's just… he seems so smart on TV," Taikutsuna says, his hair turning yellow, and then soft pink. Izuku can't fathom where this is going.

"And? He is really smart."

"He can't be, if he'd let you go."

Izuku's brain has left his skull. He's stopped working. The lights are on but nobody's home. He has no idea what's going on. He finally pulls himself together enough to stammer out a response.

"Oh," he says. _Genius. _"That is… oh."

He wants to say _that is wildly inaccurate, _but he's not sure that would go over well, and he'd rather not stay on this topic.

"That's very kind of you to say. How's your ramen?"

Izuku apparently missed some crucial cues. He told Kacchan he wasn't on a date, but clearly he was very wrong. It could be because Izuku only half-listens to everything Taikutsuna says. It astounds him that someone so vibrant can be so boring. Whatever the case, this is not the kind of distraction Izuku is looking for. At all. Ever.

He tries to hold his hand across the table twice. The first time Izuku snatches his hand away on instinct, but the second time, Izuku was a bit lost in his head, and he didn't notice until their fingers were threading together.

"Are you ready to go?" Taikutsuna says softly, his hair blinking between pink and orange as his thumb makes circles on Izuku's skin. His hand is a dead weight in Taikutsuna's gentle grasp.

"Uh, yeah," he squeaks, trying to figure out how to yank his hand back in a way that's subtle. Thankfully, Taikutsuna relinquishes his hold when they leave the table, and Izuku all but sprints away.

"Do you need a ride back to your place?"

"Uh, no. I have my car." This is a lie, but he doesn't have to know that.

"Oh," he says, hair blinking pale blue before turning back to pink. "I'll walk you, then."

"No, that's okay! I'm in a bit of a rush. I'm picking up Hisami." More lies. Who knew Izuku was such a capable liar?

"Alright. Well, I've been having a great time with you, Midoriya." Taikutsuna grabs his hand again, and it somehow leaves Izuku feeling even lonelier than usual. Maybe it's because no one's held his hand in a very long time—save for his three year old, of course. Maybe it's because the action in itself is welcome, but the person isn't. He imagines holding Kacchan's hand, and hates himself for it.

He's so busy hating himself he's completely forgotten about Taikutsuna and the fact that he's actively speaking to him—complimenting him, even. Then, all of a sudden, he's moving closer, eyes at half-mast, and _oh, fuck. _Izuku realizes he means to kiss him, only seconds before it's about to happen, and Izuku backs up on instinct so viciously that his backside hits the railing behind him and he falls head over heels, landing in the shrubbery outside the restaurant.

He yelps, and from his place among the shards of his life in the foliage, he sees Taikutsuna looking down at him, his hair a deep purple he's never seen before.

"A-are you okay?"

_Fuck._

—

Katsuki brings Hisami back to Deku's early Sunday evening, using the key Deku gave him about a month back. He feels weird having a key to Deku's apartment, but he can't deny that it's handy, and probably pretty necessary. He needs to give him a key to his apartment. He had a horrifying dream about giving Deku a key. He presented it to him in a ring box on one knee—and he's been trying to block it out since it happened. Thus, he has not given him a key yet.

Deku is laying face down on the couch, looking extremely pathetic, but he jolts when they come through the door.

"Papa, you sleeping?" Hisami screeches, scurrying towards him. If he was, Hisami's level of excitement has him awake now.

"'Course not, Button. Did you have fun? I missed you." Deku pulls Hisami to him and gives him such a long, heartfelt hug, it makes guilt flutter to life in Katsuki's chest. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about how sad Deku looked when he admitted he was having a difficult time with all the changes in his life. Hisami disentangles himself from Deku and runs off to his room. Apparently, he goes and greets all his stuffed animals and action figures every time he comes home from Katsuki's. It's a ritual that takes at least an hour. Katsuki seats himself next to Deku on the couch, and nudges him lightly.

"Mind if I stick around until bedtime?"

"That's fine. What'd you two do this weekend? Aside from accosting me at the ramen shop, of course."

Katsuki laughs, glad to see Deku is in slightly better spirits than he was yesterday. He's still not effortlessly smiling, but it's a start. Katsuki realizes that it's been a long time since Deku's been at his full brightness.

"Hung around the house, mostly. Hisami was cranky all weekend, so I didn't want to risk taking him anywhere."

"Understandable. No tantrums?"

"No, thank fuck. I haven't had to deal with that yet."

Deku nods and picks up a half-drunk glass of wine and takes a sip. He doesn't say anything else.

"How was your date?"

Deku groans and takes another, deeper chug of wine.

"Ended the night in a bush."

"Is that code for some sex thing I don't know about?"

Deku snorts and shakes his head.

"No, it's literal. He tried to kiss me and pulled back so hard I fell into a bush."

Katsuki cracks up, completely unable to hide his mirth—and satisfaction. He's glad Deku didn't want to kiss that extra. Deku lets him laugh and finishes his wine in one long gulp. He sighs heavily before getting up and taking it to the sink.

"Hey, uh, I'm going to a baby shower in two weeks and you're invited too. I was going to take Hisami. Kirishima and Ashido want to meet you. They… want to apologize."

Katsuki sees Deku's back stiffen just so. He seems to have to compose himself and breathe before he turns to Katsuki with a placid smile on his face.

"They don't need to apologize to me, Kacchan. They're your friends," he says, clearly trying to placate him again. It grates on his nerves. Why can't Deku just say what he really thinks?

"Yeah, and you're…" he trails off, unsure. He doesn't think he could ever describe what Deku is to him, so he doesn't try.

"Your baby daddy?" Deku says, his smile teasing again. Katsuki chokes, and he just knows his face is turning red.

"If you ever say that again, there will be a physical altercation."

Deku laughs, full and bright, and a bit pink in the cheeks.

"Well, at least you've given me fair warning," he says, and it's heavy with the reminder than Katsuki _has_ physically hurt Deku many times before without warning and without reason. His stomach drops at the thought, and Katsuki decides, right then, to do something nice for Deku. He has Hisami the weekend of the shower, and if Deku doesn't want to come with them, then he'll make sure he's filling his time with something fun and relaxing because he needs _something_ right now, and he won't open up or ask for help.


	19. Chapter 19

Sometimes it feels like they're friends. Sometimes it feels like he _cares,_ and that's almost worse than his anger. It makes the guilt rise like bile in his throat. It makes sleeping impossible, and not sleeping is slowly driving him insane. Hisami keeps commenting on his eye bags, and demanding he lay down with him during nap time. Worrying his three year old like that only makes him feel more guilty, and the cycle goes on and on. He's so tired that he offers Kacchan an extra day with Hisami before the weekend comes.

**Izuku: **_would you want to do dinner here tonight and take Hisami back to yours?_

**Kacchan: **_I'm off work at 4. Everything alright?_

**Izuku: **_just tired. Haven't been sleeping well._

**Kacchan: **_whatever you need_

Those words leave him feeling queasy. He can't believe Kacchan is being so nice to him. Lately, it feels like Izuku is being attacked by his own feelings. Hope and happiness feel like barbs burrowing into his skin, leaving him more upset and lonely than before.

**Izuku: **_thanks Kacchan. See you soon._

—

Deku said he was tired, but _tired_ doesn't begin to cover how awful he looks. He should've said that he was haggard and possibly on the verge of death. He's wearing his glasses again, but they don't mask the purple bags under his eyes.

"Papa! You surprised me!" Hisami looks delighted to see him a day early, and he shows it by dropping the toys he's playing with and jumping into Katsuki's arms. He spins him, reveling in the sweet sound of little giggles. Hisami kisses his cheek before burying his face in his neck, curls brushing his face.

"I'm here for dinner. I missed you."

Hisami does little more than nuzzle further into Katsuki's neck. After a beat, Hisami whispers in his ear.

"I love when my Papas are together. Papa is sad, and you have to give him loves, so he feels better."

Katsuki's stomach dips with a potent cocktail of guilt, apprehension, and general fear of the word _love._ His eyes dart over to Deku for a moment. His back is to them, so he lets his eyes linger on the hunch of his shoulders and the messy bush of his hair. He's exhausted. Katsuki whispers back to his son.

"I'll take care of him, Bub. Don't worry."

Just before he starts cooking dinner—for once, Hisami can't be bothered to help—Katsuki gives Deku the booked itinerary for a luxury spa, and the information about the car he ordered to take him there, Deku seems to not know what it is. He stares at the stack of papers, but he's not really seeing them.

"What is this?" He finally asks, placing the papers on the countertop, and hefting himself up on the island to give Katsuki more space to move around in the crowded kitchen area.

"A relaxing weekend away."

"For me," he adds, like he's not quite sure. Katsuki absently notes the way Deku's toes curl in his socks, almost nervously.

"Obviously."

"Why?"

"What do you mean _why?_ Don't be difficult. You need a break. You look like shit."

"You _really _didn't need to do this," he says, and it's all breathy.

"I wanted to."

"Remember when I said you're my baby daddy? We're moving into sugar daddy territory now, and I'm terrified." Deku smiles, but it's a bit weak and watered down.

Against his better judgement, he laughs. Deku picks up the itinerary again, actually reading it this time. He still looks tentative, like he might refuse, so Katsuki nips that shit in the bud real quick.

"It's a nonrefundable booking, so don't even start," he says, pushing past Deku's knees to rifle through his cabinets like he owns the place. He pulls out two wine glasses, and finds a half empty bottle of red in the fridge.

"You don't like wine," Deku says, after Katsuki has thrust a full glass of wine in his hand and clinks his own against it.

"How do you know that?"

"Every time you drink it, you make the same face Hisami does when I force him to eat asparagus."

"It's growing on me," he says, trying to cover up the fact that he's absolutely baffled Deku notices so much about him.

"Like a bad rash," he says, sipping his wine. He still looks vaguely upset, like he's lost in his head, and Katsuki's preventing him from fully slipping away.

"Hey," he says, light and soft. It's the voice he uses when he puts Hisami to bed. Deku's eyes meet his.

"Will you just talk to me? You're worrying me—and Hisami, by the way—and we don't like worrying about you."

"Sorry," he says, draining the rest of his wine in one big gulp, and filling it up again swiftly.

"Don't be sorry. Just fucking tell me what's wrong."

"I just… have _so_ much time. And nothing to do. And no one to talk to. Brings back some bad memories."

"What about that stupid pink-haired guy?"

Deku groans and rolls his eyes. He takes another big sip of wine, and Katsuki sees just a bit of Hisami's dramatics in the motion. It makes him smile.

"He's annoying me. I just wanted someone to talk to about what to do when I don't have my kid, and he's trying to make it something it's not. Something I don't have time for."

"You just said all you've got is time."

"I don't have time for people I don't want to make time for," he says, and it's the closest Deku's ever sounded to snapping at him.

"Damn. Never knew you were so ice cold, Deku." He's trying for levity, but it comes off more critical than he'd like.

"I'm not. I just… I don't need a boyfriend right now."

"Well, what do you need?"

"Probably a good lay," he mutters into the mouth of his glass, like Katsuki wasn't supposed to hear it, but he absolutely did, so he chokes on his wine. Deku looks startled, tries to recover. "A spa weekend sounds lovely. Thanks, Kacchan."

"Yeah… I'll start dinner, I guess."

All Katsuki can think about is how often Deku gets laid in his dreams, and how much they talk before, after, and during. Deku's not supposed to be quiet and brooding. He never thought he'd see a day where he'd admit to missing Deku's easy rambling, but here they are. For the first time ever, Katsuki thinks he might be happier in his dreams than in his current reality. That scares him.

—

Hisami is shaking with excitement, little feet kicking against his car seat. Katsuki just told him that Frostfire will be at the baby shower. He mostly said it to get him in the damn car—he was reticent to spend another day with Clown-san—but he can't deny that Hisami's unbridled joy is contagious. For once, he's looking forward to a social engagement.

When they arrive, he's not surprised to see that there's only a few people present. Pro heroes don't have the most flexible schedules, and asking twenty high ranking heroes to take off the same day almost never works. He spots Kaminari and Jiro the second they get through the door, their nine year old sulking in a corner with her headphones in. She lights up when she notices Katsuki—she's got a bit of a crush on him, and she's not shy about it. Momo's cutting food into bite sized pieces for her four year old twins. She waves when they make eye contact, and not so subtly stares at Hisami, who's clutching his pant leg like a lifeline.

"You okay, Bub?" Katsuki asks, smoothing a hand over his curls.

"Too many people," he mutters into his thigh. He forgets how shy Hisami can be because he's so dramatic. He's a confident spitfire one-on-one, but in a crowd, he's more like Deku—a shrinking violet. Katsuki bends to pick him up, and Hisami hides his face in his chest instantly.

"They're all friends of mine, and they're heroes! They'll be really nice to you, or I'll fight them."

"You promise?"

"Pinky promise, Bub. Let's go say hi to Clown and Pinky, yeah?"

Hisami only nods, still hiding.

"Bakugo, who trusted you to watch their kid?" Kaminari bellows from across the room. Hisami is still hiding, but he tenses when Kaminari speaks. Everyone's congregated around a very pregnant Ashido. She looks a bit miserable, with her swollen ankles, giant belly, and inability to drink.

"Oi, fuck off. This is my son."

"Language, Papa," Hisami whispers, pinching his chest lightly. Kaminari literally does a spit take all over his wife's badass leather jacket. Jiro pokes him with her earjacks. Hisami must have seen that because he giggles.

"You have a son?" Everyone seems shocked to hear it, and he mentally reminds himself to thank his publicist for working double time to keep his son out of the tabloids.

"You want to say hi?"

Hisami peeks out from his hiding place, and waves at Ashido. Everyone smiles and waves back at him, and Hisami looks flustered, but pleased with the attention.

"This is Hisami. I'm not going to bother telling him your names because he won't care enough to remember them anyway," he says, delighted with the odd looks they all give him. Honestly, they should've be surprised—it took Katsuki two years to remember everyone's names, and he still doesn't use them half the time. "If you upset him, I'll end you."

"_Yeah,"_ Hisami says, patting Katsuki's shoulder so he knows he can put him down. He goes straight to Ashido, despite Kirishima's obvious attempt to strong-arm a hug out of him.

"Hey, Little Bub!" Kirishima holds his arms wide, and Hisami ducks under them in an impressive display of coordination for a child his age.

"Not now, Clown-san!"

Kirishima looks positively destroyed, and everyone laughs at his expense as Hisami politely asks if he can touch Ashido's "tummy baby."

Everyone gets a kick out of their new names. Jiro is Ears, Momo is Beautiful, Koda is Quiet, Tokoyami is Birdy, and Kaminari is mercilessly dubbed Idiot. All is going well, and Hisami actually calls the twins by their names, and seems to genuinely enjoy their company. Katsuki feels like he can relax, until he hears Hisami ask a question with day-ruining consequences.

"Pink-chan, where's Frostfire?"

_Fuck, _Katsuki thinks. He was hoping Hisami wouldn't notice his absence, but, of course, Hisami is way too smart for his own good. It's Momo who answers, and with every word Katsuki has visions of this pleasant day going straight down the shitter.

"He's sick today, sweetie."

Hisami's sweet, freckled face crumples, and the sobbing starts.

—

Izuku walks through the double doors of the spa. It's built into the side of breathtakingly beautiful mountain. Izuku did a fair amount of Moogling the place before his driver picked him up this morning, and apparently the luxury spa package Kacchan bought him was the most expensive package the resort offered. It's a nice gesture, but it leaves him uneasy. Is he so pathetic that Kacchan, of all people, decided to take pity on him? It makes the guilt that's been simmering in his gut for the last five months burble over. There's champagne and a lovely charcuterie board in his room, but he can't bring himself to eat it. His stomach twists at the very thought. He forgoes the champagne flute and chugs straight from the bottle when he notices there are _two_ of them, and the room suddenly feels like it was _meant_ for two people.

He's lonely and being alone on a spa weekend feels like the saddest thing in the world, especially when the universe sends him constant reminders that this is the kind of thing most people do with a significant other. Couples pass by, hand in hand, blissfully relaxed and visibly in love. He spends the afternoon being pampered in a way that's incredible and relaxing and everything that should make him happy, but he ends up feeling coddled, with a bad taste in his mouth. He makes it back to his room, and when he checks his phone he finds a new message from Kacchan. It's a selfie full of smiling heroes, and Hisami is beaming in his lap. He's glad they're having fun. He's glad they're surrounded by love and friendship.

He wants that, too, thought. He's just never known how to reach out and grab it.

Izuku ends up sobbing in a bathrobe on top of luxurious sheets, and he knows it's ridiculous, but he can't make himself stop. He can't fathom why he's suddenly so lonely. He's been alone all his life and it's never bothered him before. It's probably because he's attracted to Kacchan, despite the fact that he's hated him for most of his life. It's so stupid, but any small kindness from Kacchan after everything they've been through takes a toll on him. It's like creating a mountaintop just to just to jump to his death—beautiful, exhilarating, full of hope, and then the reality that it's all for naught sets in.

Izuku will get through this. He's tougher and braver than anyone has ever given him credit for. He can and he _will_ put these feelings away and he'll be strong for his son. He'll call Taikutsuna when he gets home, and maybe when he tries to kiss him again, he'll let it happen. Maybe the best way to get over Kacchan is to get under someone else, and to treat Kacchan as he is—a mostly unwilling co-parent, who loves their son despite the horrible way he came to be.

—

Katsuki can't quite call this a tantrum because Hisami isn't raging, or anything like that, but he's hysterically crying, and it hurts more than any villain attack he's ever been in. He has an urge to call Deku, to have him coach him through this unfortunate milestone, but he wants Deku to relax and rest and recharge. He wants him to snap the fuck out of whatever funk he's been in, and calling him now would just worry him. Instead, he texts Todoroki.

**Katsuki: **_FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCK_

**H&H Bastard: **_?_

In a fit of fatherly rage, Katsuki snaps a picture of his inconsolable son and sends it to him.

**Katsuki: **_[img_01]_

**Katsuki: **_THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT_

**H&H Bastard: **_Bakugo I have a fever so high not even my right side can regulate it. I'm not in the mood for whatever this is._

**Katsuki: **_APOLOGIZE TO MY KID_

Katsuki FaceTimes Todoroki with little regard for how sick he may be. All that matters is that Hisami stops crying because it's breaking Katsuki's heart into sharp, minuscule pieces.

"Bakugo, what the fuck," Todoroki deadpans. Katsuki relishes the fact that Todoroki looks and sounds like absolute shit. _Good. Not so pretty now, huh?_

"Talk to my son. He was really excited to meet you, _asshole," _Katsuki barks, and then softly speaks to Hisami. "Here, Bub. It's Frostfire. Please, don't cry."

Hisami is practically purple he's so out of breath from his champion-level crying marathon. He looks confused before he sees Frostfire's face on the screen, and then he pulls himself together just enough to speak.

"Frostfire?"

"Uh, hello," he says. "Why are you crying?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes at Todoroki's deft response. This idiot has been a father of two for four years, and doesn't know how to fucking talk to a kid? Christ.

"You're my favorite. I wanted to say hi today," he whines, hiccuping little sobs escaping him. Katsuki fusses with Hisami's hair, trying his best to comfort him. He'd murder Todoroki if it wouldn't upset Hisami to hear that his favorite was exploded off the face of the earth.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sick today. Did you get to meet more heroes today?"

"Yeah, but they don't matter. I've never heard of them before," he says, still sounding miserable. Katsuki tries really hard not to laugh at how little he thinks of the other heroes because Hisami is clearly in a bad mood.

"Well, they're very nice people. I bet if you take a nap, you'll feel better. I'm very sleepy—I was going to take a nap, too."

"You take naps?"

"All the time," Todoroki says, a soft smile quirking his lips. "Do you want to stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?"

"Yes, please," he says politely. His breathing is still erratic, but he's not crying anymore. His eyelids seem to be drooping, and Katsuki wonders when he'll learn these magical parenting tips and tricks. When will he get to read the handbook that both Deku and Todoroki are clearly clued in on? Hisami passes out in Kirishima's and Ashido's bed comically fast, and Katsuki pries his phone from his little hands to address Todoroki.

"You suck, but thank you for that," he says, once he's quietly shut the door to the bedroom to allow Hisami to take a much needed nap.

"Your offspring is surprisingly mild-mannered. How the hell did that happen?"

"The other half of his genetics, probably."

"How have you managed to hide a son for this long?"

"Maybe if you actually came to the party, you'd know that. Fuck off and go to sleep. You look like shit."

Todoroki sighs, rolls his eyes, and disconnects the call without a goodbye. Katsuki goes to rejoin the party, knowing he'll have many questions to answer.


	20. Chapter 20

Izuku wakes about eighteen hours later. He feels puffy and sniffly, but otherwise, he really does feel refreshed. He likes to think this is what Kacchan wanted for him when he booked this egregiously expensive spa weekend for him. He slept through a facial and a seaweed peel, but he has just enough time to eat a small meal and make it to his last deep tissue massage.

Seeing couples pass by still needles at him, but he really does feel better. Maybe he just needed to have an emotional breakdown and knock himself the fuck out to get a little perspective. This is hardly the worst thing he's ever had to deal with—it's hardly the first time he's ever been lonely, or felt unloved. This is nothing new, so there's no reason to treat this like the end of the world.

He undressed and lays across the cushioned table while he waits for his masseuse. There's candles and soft music trilling over hidden speakers, and Izuku is determined to enjoy it. He sticks his head in the weird face hole and patiently waits. It's not long before he hears the door open and close.

"Hello," she says, and her voice is smooth and easy and he feels a wave of calm caress him.

"Was that a Quirk?"

Her laughter trills like a bell, and Izuku feels it in his goddamn _soul._

"Yes. I can't turn it off, so let me know if it bothers you."

"I really like it. Are there drawbacks?"

"For you, yes. It can leave you feeling a bit… upset later. It uses up your serotonin."

"Like a drug," he says, and her hands begin to press into his back. He almost moans, it feels so good. Instead, he says, "Do you mind talking?"

"'Course not," she says simply, and Izuku is off.

They talk about his childhood and growing up functionally Quirkless, and every time she responds to him, he feels light and fluttery. She doesn't speak often, but he can tell she's listening, and the fact that he doesn't know her, and he can't see her makes talking so easy. Honestly, he should pay her extra for the impromptu therapy session. They end up talking about why he's here, and it invariably brings Kacchan into the conversation.

"I think he was worried about me. I've been stressed having him back in my life, and knowing that he's worried feels kind of good, but it also makes me feel guilty."

"Why's that, hon?"

"I… It's my fault that we never work out. I think I'll always love him, but I don't deserve him."

Talking so openly about how he feels about Kacchan terrifies him, but this girl doesn't know them. She doesn't know what they are and what they aren't, or how Izuku has ruined their lives.

"What do you deserve then?" She asks softly, her hands kneading the muscles along his spine. The question slams into him like a wrecking ball.

"I don't know. I guess I always take whatever I can get."

"Maybe you should take what you _want."_

They don't speak much after that. Izuku is running circles in his mind, trying to find the intersection of need and want and deserve in his life. He's only ever reached out and taken one thing for himself—Hisami, and that's about as high-risk and high-reward as it gets. Hisami was more than enough for him, but now that he spends half his time with Kacchan, all the little cracks in Izuku's life are widening. He needs to do something.

—

Izuku leaves the spa early, after an early dinner ordered in. He feels bad wasting Kacchan's money by leaving a day early, but there's only one place he really wants to be right now.

The car drops him off in front of his mother's house, and she's curled up on the couch in her pajamas when he closes the front door behind him. She pats the cushion next to him, and he can't drop his overnight bag fast enough to get over there. Izuku lays his head in his mother's lap, and they're silent for a long time as she strokes his hair. Finally, he breaks the silence.

"I'm sure you've already talked to the Bakugos."

She _mhmms_ softly.

"And… I assume you've known for a while."

"I have."

"Do you hate me?" Izuku can't help the tears sliding down his face and onto his mother's fleece pajama pants.

"I could never. I don't understand, though. I want to understand why."

"I… I wanted to love someone the way you love me. And I wanted to be loved back. Unconditionally, you know?"

"But why Katsuki?"

Izuku can think of a thousand reasons, a thousand excuses, but they all come back to one essential truth: Kacchan is the only friend he's ever had. There was a time, however fleeting, when Kacchan genuinely cared for Izuku, and that has always stuck with him. Izuku's been used a lot in his life by people he cared about—people he thought had cared about him. Everyone hurts him and everyone leaves. He just wanted one person to _stay._

"I think I've always loved him. It's not a reason, or an excuse. It's just a fact. I can't exactly put into words why I did it because it was wrong and it's never not going to be wrong, but I just… wanted a piece of him to keep."

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispers, and it makes Izuku feel warm. "What can I do to help?"

He doesn't mind being babied by her every now and then. He really needed this, and he's not too proud to admit it.

"I don't think you can do anything. This is my mess and I just have to grin and bear it. He's Hisami's father."

"No, you don't have to grin and bear it. If you need a break, I'll help. I'll take Hisami back and forth between you two. You don't have to see each other."

Izuku thinks about it for a second. Honestly, he can't decide if seeing Kacchan would be worse than not seeing him. Now that he's back in his life, it's odd to think about going back to little to no contact. But… Kacchan might actually prefer that.

"Okay. Thanks, Mom. Thanks for always being here." He nuzzles into her leg, and eventually he dozes off.

—

Early Monday morning brings Kacchan, and a still-sleeping Hisami. Kacchan goes straight to his bedroom, and puts Hisami down for another few hours of blissful sleep before folding himself on the couch. He's perilously close to Izuku.

"How was the shower?"

"Great, until it wasn't. I told him he'd get to meet Frostfire, but the bastard never showed."

"I can only imagine the meltdown he had," Izuku says, commiserating and reminiscing on his own experiences with public tantrums.

"I hate seeing him cry. It's the worst thing I've ever felt," he says, and Izuku is awed by how easily he shows his sensitive side. It makes his stomach twist.

"I know how you feel. Next time, under promise and over deliver."

Katsuki nods, and then makes a show of inspecting Izuku, like he's searching for all his imperfections.

"Feeling better? You look like you got some sleep."

"I feel… galvanized."

"There's a four dollar word," he says, smirking.

"You're not the only one who paid attention in school, Kacchan," he says, rolling his eyes lightly and looking away. He hates how much he loves Kacchan's smiles. His face feels hot.

"So, you're a man with a plan then? What's the first step?"

"Make some goddamn friends." He wears a determined expression that Kacchan can't help but raise an eyebrow at.

"You really don't have any friends?"

"I have coworkers and general acquaintances," he says, picking at imaginary dust on the couch cushion to avoid his gaze.

"You don't have a single friend from high school? Or college?"

Izuku isn't about to tell Kacchan about the few people in his life that had previously given him the time of day. He had a boyfriend in high school for about two years, and the entire time they kept it a secret because Quirkless Deku wasn't cool enough to be acknowledged by him in public. There were a slew of people in university who hung out with him because he always shared his notes and filled out study guides in their entirety, but they pointedly ignored him outside of class, and eventually he took the hint. There was a girl whom he'd thought he was in a relationship with, but really she was using him to make her on and off boyfriend—who apparently lived in the apartment next to his—jealous. She would come over at the same time every day and they'd proceed to have very loud— and very mediocre—sex, complete with slamming headboards and banging walls, until one day his neighbor came and punched his lights out. He had a black eye for a month. The list goes on and on.

Izuku shakes his head to shove those memories away. They hurt, but they don't matter anymore.

"The past doesn't matter. I'm not going to let it stop me from moving forward," he says.

"Deku," Kacchan sighs and looks away, almost as if he's embarrassed. "You're a good person. I'm sure you'll figure things out in no time."

"That's… kind of you to say. Shouldn't you be on your way? Your shift starts soon."

Kacchan gives him a look like he knows he's getting the brush off, but they both know Izuku is right, and he really should be going.

"If you need anything, call me," he says, and it's almost like a threat. Aggressively caring.

"Thanks, Kacchan," he says, because he refuses to give a straight answer. He can't lie to Kacchan, and he can't say _I plan on avoiding you from now on,_ so he won't say anything else.

Izuku has plans, and pining over someone who never wanted to be around him in the first place isn't part of that plan. They need space from each other. Kacchan has a life, and Izuku needs to get one.


	21. Chapter 21

**Katsuki: **_what time is good for pick up? 4?_

**Deku: **_my moms going to pick him up! 4 is great._

**Katsuki: **_you busy or something?_

**Deku: **_works going a bit longer than expected today. Not a big deal._

—

Izuku called Taikutsuna with every intention of apologizing for being a fucking idiot the last time they hung out, and possibly broaching the subject of trying to date again, but when he found himself at a coffee shop with him a few days later, the thought of kissing him makes his stomach twist. The thought of treating Taikutsuna the way people in his past have treated him makes me him feel gross and dirty and guilty. So, instead, he word vomits all over what should've been a normal, pleasant day.

"I'm going to be honest with you. I'm not really interested in you like that because I'm in love with my goddamn baby daddy—and he hates me. You are too nice to get caught up in my bullshit because I'm a fucking mess."

Izuku slaps a hand over his mouth to stop anymore embarrassing words from falling from his lips. Taikutsuna's hair turns yellow as he bursts out laughing. Izuku frowns, but he reminds himself that this is hardly the worst reaction to his words.

"I can't believe you told me that," he says, and then he laughs again. "For what it's worth, I figured all that out on my own. Bailing into the bushes isn't exactly subtle."

"I'm so sorry," he whines, hiding his red face in his hands. "I can't believe you're laughing at me!"

"I didn't mean to. You just caught me by surprise." His smile looks genuine and unbothered, and Izuku has hope that he hasn't completely screwed this up.

"Does that mean you're not mad?"

"Well, I can't say I'm not a bit disappointed, but I like you. And you seem like you could use a friend."

Izuku's face crumples, suddenly overcome with emotion, but he pushes it away. He's embarrassed himself enough for one night.

"I could." He gives a wet smile, and Taikutsuna's hair turns pink again before petering out into oranges and yellows. Izuku decides to change the subject.

"Since we're friends, will you tell me what the colors mean?"

Taikutsuna rolls his eyes, his hair an interesting shade of lavender. Making friends has never come easy to Izuku, but he's trying. He's already feeling a bit better, a bit more proactive and clear-headed. He knows he can't avoid Kacchan forever, but he needs some time to center himself and to stop feeling so goddamn guilty all the time.

—

**Kacchan: **_we doing Christmas at my parents house or yours? My moms trying to plan shit out and I told her I needed to talk to you first._

Izuku balks at the text. He's only successfully avoided Kacchan for a week, and Christmas is in less than a month. He needs more time. The thought of spending a holiday _together_ as a _family_ makes Izuku feel hot and stressed and weak. They never talked about holidays, and their first one since the new arrangement is coming at a very inconvenient time for Izuku.

**Izuku: **_I figured he'd spend it with you. It's your weekend after all._

**Kacchan: **_? The fuck. It's goddamn Christmas Deku I'm not gonna keep your kid from you_ _just because it happens to be my weekend._

**Kacchan:** _I know we didn't really plan for this in the custody stuff but I hope you'd do the same for me._

Izuku bites his lip, torn between saying yes and living out a fantasy of being a family together, and saying no to preserve all the progress he's been making while giving up a holiday with his son. It's a lose/lose situation, but Izuku is used to those.

**Izuku: **_I just figured you'd want to spend your first Christmas without me. It's a big thing for you two._

—

Katsuki blinks at Deku's response, absolutely dumbfounded. Deku is willing to give up an entire holiday with Hisami just to make Katsuki a bit more comfortable, to give him some kind of parenting edge, no matter how unnecessary it is. It's ludicrous. It's self-sacrificing. It's… very kind of him. Katsuki's not about to take Deku's kindness without giving anything back. He's not doing that anymore.

**Katsuki: **_it's big for you too. I'm not letting you spend Christmas alone._

**Deku: **_it's fine Kacchan. You deserve this._

Katsuki grunts, suddenly angry. Why does he have to be so difficult and weird? He's been edgy and avoidant for weeks, and now he's trying to weasel his way of Christmas? Katsuki angrily taps the call button.

It goes to voicemail almost immediately, and Katsuki gives an offended gasp, staring wide-eyed at the phone as if it had just slapped him. He calls again, and this time it rings a few times before going to voicemail.

"What the fuck?"

"Language, Papa! Why are you yelling?"

"Your Papa is being… silly," he says. He'd like to say _your Papa is being an idiot shit head and he won't talk to me, _but badmouthing him to their three year old seems like the pettiest shit ever.

"Silly Papas," he mumbles, rolling around on the floor with Cheeto. He says _silly_ a few more times, giggling because he likes the word. Hisami is having one of those days where he's just a bit loopy around nap time. He much prefers silly, sleepy Hisami to short-tempered, exhausted Hisami.

"Bubba, where do you want to spend Christmas?"

"Frostfire's house, please," he says, smirking. Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"Very funny. I mean, do you want to go to my parents' house, or stay here?"

"We go to Obaasan's house," Hisami says, the beginnings of confusion pulling at his eyebrows. "We always go to Obaasan's and we always make ginger people."

"You'll be with me this year," he says, his heart pinching in his chest at the slow grimace appearing on Hisami's face.

"Can I have both Papas on Christmas?" His bottom lip wobbles dangerously, and Katsuki takes a moment to curse Deku for putting this on him.

"I want you to have whatever you want," he says, hefting his son off the floor to sit on his lap.

"Why don't you love Papa?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm smart, Dummy-san. You give me hugs and loves, but you don't love Papa. It makes me sad because Papa needs loves too, and you give good hugs."

He's crying now, and Katsuki doesn't know what to do about it. He doesn't want to lie to Hisami just to make him feel better. He doesn't love Deku, despite whatever dreams he may be having. He barely knows Deku because he won't fucking speak to him.

"Don't cry, Bubba. I care about your Papa. We both want you to be happy."

Hisami pitifully cries himself out, and Katsuki has been through this enough times to know that he probably wouldn't be crying so much if it wasn't right around nap time.

After Hisami goes down for his nap, Cheeto securely tucked against his side, Katsuki gets to fuckin work. It's no understatement to say that he absolutely _blows up_ Deku's phone. He calls something like sixteen times before Deku finally picks up. He sounds winded.

"Oh my god, Kacchan. Is everything okay?"

"Where the hell have you been?"

"A yoga class. Is Hisami alright? You called me like twenty times," he says. His voice keeps cracking with stress.

"He's fine. I mean, he was upset earlier. We need to do Christmas together. It has to be at your Mom's house. He said that's always what happens and he wants us both there."

"Oh. I honestly didn't think he'd be upset about it. He always loves spending time with you."

"He wants to spend time with both of us. We haven't been doing dinners and shit lately and he's noticing."

"Right," he says, and Katsuki thinks he can detect the slightest tone of panic in his voice.

"So, Christmas," he says.

"I'm actually a bit busy right now, but I'll let you know. I'll give you a call later."

"Don't blow me off, Deku." His bullshit senses are tingling. Deku's doing the same finicky weird shit he's been doing for the last few weeks, and Katsuki's already sick of it.

"I won't!"

He does, but Katsuki lets it go for a few days. He can't avoid him forever.

—

**Katsuki: **_cool if I come for dinner tonight?_

**Deku: **_tonight's not great._

**Katsuki: **_everything ok?_

**Deku: **_yeah! Tonight's just a bad night. Hisami's been in a mood and bedtime will be hard enough. Sorry :/_

**Katsuki: **_it's fine. Maybe tomorrow?_

**Deku: **_maybe!_

—

Izuku can't remember the last time he went to the gym. He feels a bit dumb for being so enthralled to be there—like Hisami at an amusement park. He's not out of shape, per se, but he definitely doesn't run as much as he'd like to. Sometimes, if he's not exhausted by the time he puts Hisami to bed, he'll do yoga, or mess around with his free weights, but that doesn't happen often.

The gym always makes him feel self-conscious. He feels like everyone is looking at him and judging his physique—like he's not tall enough or muscular enough to be there, and everyone knows it with just one glance. Izuku regrets wearing leggings and a cutoff T-shirt. Usually, he feels cute in his leggings. Today, he feels exposed, especially as he stretches before getting on the treadmill.

He knows he's overreacting, that it's anxiety that makes him feel like he's being watched, so he does his best to push that feeling away and focus on what he came here to do. He breathes through his stretches, and allows himself to feel excited. This is exactly what he should be doing—filling his time without his son with positive activities that make him feel good. He can't help but smile a bit as he hops up to the treadmill.

He ran track in high school—he figured he may as well get something out of running from all those bullies—and it was probably the only thing that kept him sane.

He loses himself in the thrum of his heartbeat and his steady pace. He gradually ups the speed, and it's painful—he's out of practice—but it's also the best he's felt in _months._ He's sprinting, outrunning the tempo of the music in his headphones, and he can hardly breathe, but it's fantastic, and before he knows it, it's been almost thirty minutes. He hates that he can't keep up the pace, and he's not nearly as fast as he used to be. He brings the machine back down to a jog in an attempt to catch his breath. He's drenched in sweat now, so he's actually grateful for his moisture-wicking outfit choice.

After he brings the machine down to a walk towards the end of his workout, that watched feeling returns. He wipes his face with the bottom of his shirt and takes a gulp from his water bottle. Then, he realizes he _is _being watched. A tall, handsome stranger smiles at him—who is Izuku to ignore him?

—

**Katsuki: **_where have you been?_

**Deku: **_?_

**Katsuki: **_just feels like I never see you anymore._

**Katsuki: **_is everything ok?_

**Katsuki: **_Deku wtf_

**Deku: **_sorry! I was at the gym. Everything is great! Thanks for checking on me ? __ﾟﾏﾻ ️_

**Katsuki: **_we still need to talk about xmas_

—

Izuku is very busy. Too busy to go back on all his progress by talking about holiday plans with Kacchan. He's going to have to buck up and do it, but he doesn't want to think about it right now. He's been so good lately. He's eating healthily, sleeping regularly, going out with friends. Well, friend. Taikutsuna is a much better friend than he is a prospective boyfriend, and Izuku suspects that Taikutsuna feels the same way about him. They settled into an easy friendship.

He fills his time without Hisami with weird activities: cooking classes, paint and sip parties, or the random local events Taikutsuna always invites him to. It's really fun. It's like the second he decided to stop feeling horrible about his past actions, he opened himself up to life again. Everything with Kacchan might be a mess, but he deserves this break, even if it's only temporary.

—

**Katsuki: **_still bringing Hisami by at 5?_

**Deku: **_yep! He's excited to show you his new pajamas._

**Katsuki: **_want to stick around for dinner? I'm making katsudon. Spice optional for your bitch baby taste buds of course._

**Deku: **_Ah sorry! I can't. I'm meeting someone for dinner tonight._

**Katsuki: **_hot date?_

No reply. Katsuki hasn't seen Deku in three weeks—which is astounding considering the fact that they take care of a child together. They still need to talk about what they're doing for Christmas. It's three fucking days away and Katsuki is starting to get angry about being ignored. There's always some excuse, somewhere he has to be, or some reason he can't come over. Every time Katsuki shows up for pick up or drop off, it's Inko he sees instead of her son.

Today is no different. Inko gives him a smile as Hisami pushes through into the apartment to harass Cheeto.

"Where's Deku?" Katsuki is confused, and a bit hurt. The last time they talked—like _really_ talked, not the dumb back and forth texting they've been doing—Deku said he had a plan. If he'd known the first step of that plan was _avoid Katsuki like his life depended on it, _he would've tried to steer him in a different direction. Katsuki hates to admit it, but he misses Deku. He finds that parenting is a thousand times scarier without Deku's constant and unwavering support. He's worried about him, and he's worried about how this is going to affect Hisami.

"He had some errands to run before his date tonight," she says, a slightly forced smile on her face. She definitely knows what's going on.

"So, he's dating someone? That's what's got him so busy all the time?"

Is whoever he's dating insecure about Deku spending time with his ex? They've never actually been in a relationship, but Deku can't exactly tell anyone that. If that's the case, it's controlling bullshit, and Katsuki already dislikes the bastard.

"They've only been out a few times. He's been doing a lot lately. Filling his time and whatnot." She shrugs.

"Is he okay?"

"Of course. You haven't been talking?" Inko says airily. She absolutely knows the answer to her own question, but he answers anyway.

"A bit… if texting counts," he says. "I've been trying to nail down plans for Christmas, but he's been hard to reach."

"We usually do a quiet Christmas Eve, and then a nice dinner on Christmas Day. Your parents are going to stop by around noon. I'm assuming you want to be with Hisami on Christmas Eve?"

"Did Deku ask you to be our go-between?" He blurts out. Inko's face goes a bit blank for a second, and Katsuki sees so much of Deku in her that he can read her like a book. He's spent enough time deciphering Deku's emotions to know Inko's feeling a bit guilty.

"He's just trying to give you your space. I think he needs some space, too."

Katsuki nods, but all he can think is that he never asked for space from Deku. He wasn't all that bothered by weekly dinners and post-bedtime conversations. Before Inko leaves, they firm up their Christmas plans, even though it irks him to have to make plans with Deku through his mom. Katsuki feels like he did something wrong, he just can't pinpoint what it is.

—

**Kacchan: **_we really need to talk._

**Kacchan: **_I know you're on a date and I don't mean to cockblock or whatever but you can't avoid me forever. If you don't call me back I'm going to just pop up and ambush you soon._

**Kacchan: **_that's both a threat and a promise. Have a good night deku._

Izuku stares at the vaguely threatening messages he just received. He's annoying Kacchan, and that guilt he's been so good at burying lately surfaces once again. He ignores it in favor of checking his latest texts from Taikutsuna.

**Taikutsuna: **_hot italian gym rat is too hot for you to be going this slow_

**Taikutsuna: **_JUST FUCK ALREADY_

**Taikutsuna: **_and then tell me everything in graphic detail. It's been a dry couple of months for me hsjakabshn_

Izuku rolls his eyes. Taikutsuna is obsessed with the guy from the gym. He probably likes him more than Izuku does. As the nickname states, he's hot, Italian, and wonderfully muscular. His name is Lorenzo Chiellini, and after a few pitiful attempts at correctly pronouncing his name, he asked Izuku to just call him Enzo—and then he asked him on a date.

They've been out three times now, and they talk a bit when they happen to be at the gym at the same time. He's nice enough, but there's a concerning language barrier between them. Half the time he thinks neither of them know what the other is saying, but he's just… so hot, and Izuku is only human. Being able to stare at him is enough incentive to keep accepting dates, and it's not like Izuku is looking for anything serious right now, anyway. He wishes he could say he really likes Enzo, or that he wants to go a bit further with him, but honestly, he's still hung up on the possibility of Kacchan—which is depressing and laughable all at once.

—

Katsuki glances over at Hisami. He was minding his own business and coloring in the Red Riot coloring book Kirishima gave him. He's colored every page as if Red Riot were Frostfire, making Kirishima's hair half red, half white, and his uniform—is you can call a pair of pants a uniform—blue. It's a testament to just how petty Hisami can be, and Katsuki _loves _it. He sends Kirishima a picture of every single colored page, and Kirishima sends back crying emojis.

He's pleased that Hisami can't be bothered to notice how keyed up Katsuki is. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about what Deku's deal is. What was so bad about what they were doing? It's not like they spend every moment together, and Hisami is clearly happier when they're all together, even if it's only for a dinner, or so they can both put him to bed.

So, there he is, sitting on the couch, silently seething, and trying to decide if he should do something about it. He wasn't kidding when he threatened to ambush Deku. He has the means to do it, but he really thought he'd never have to resort to it. Katsuki may or may not have shared Deku's location with him indefinitely while he wasn't looking. He did it _purely_ for safety purposes—he kind of freaked out about keeping Hisami out of harm's way back when he didn't have custody of him, and this was an easy way of keeping tabs on them. He figured that was more acceptable than putting a tracker in the back of Hisami's neck, which he actually considered before he got a grip and told himself that he couldn't treat a kid like a dog no matter how practical it seemed.

So, does he use it? Does he go ambush Deku and force him to work their shit out before they have to be happy and friendly in front of their son so they don't ruin Christmas? It's not exactly _right,_ spying on Deku, but then again, neither was using a procreation Quirk on Katsuki without his permission, so… maybe Deku owes him. That's some really flimsy logic, but in the end, Katsuki is going to do whatever he wants. It's just the way things are.

"Hey, Bub. Wanna go on a reconnaissance mission with me?"

"What's _recon-essence?"_ Hisami whispers the word three more times, trying to say it correctly.

"A hero thing, but we have to be _quiet._ We're sneaky."

"Do we get to wear disguises?"

"Absolutely." He smiles, only slightly guilty. At least Hisami looks like he'll have fun.


	22. Chapter 22

"Can Cheeto come?"

"Cheeto likes to stay in the apartment, Bub. You'll be sad if he runs away."

Hisami pouts the entire way to the small costume shop, lamenting the absence of their stupid cat, but he quickly abandons his poor mood when they make it into the cluttered store, and his short attention span won't allow him to do anything other than touch every single sale item.

"Pick whatever you want, but remember we're trying to be sneaky," he says, and Hisami is off like a shot. They're the only customers inside, and the store owner stares open-mouthed at Katsuki, even with his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He's clearly recognized him, so he takes the hate off and stuffs it in the back pocket of him jeans. He goes up to the register, giving the man his most intimidating stare.

"G-Ground Zero!"

"Hi, what do I have to do to make sure you don't mention that I came in here?" Katsuki says, getting right down to business. His intimidation factor is immediately undercut when Hisami screeches from some far corner of the store.

"Papa, look! I'm Pink-chan!" He's wearing a curly pink wig and glasses with yellow star-shaped frames. Clearly, Hisami doesn't care one bit for being nondescript and sneaky on their mission.

"Looks great, Bubba," he says, even though he's almost positive Hisami isn't listening anymore. Katsuki turns back to the man behind the counter. "I'd really like to keep my son's identity under wraps, for safety reasons, obviously. So, what do you want?"

"Oh, I won't say anything, sir. I promise!"

Katsuki narrows his eyes. The guy seems genuine enough—probably because Katsuki's just as scary as Hisami is cute, but there's nothing wrong with greasing a few palms when it comes to his kid's safety.

"Hmm. Well, I'm going to buy three of everything my son is currently breaking and unpackaging as my thanks for your discretion," he says, placing his credit card on the counter between them. He pauses momentarily for effect. "And if word gets out about my kid, I'll know where to find you, yeah?" Katsuki says it sweetly enough, but there's a fire in his eyes and a threatening promise in the curve of his grin.

"Of course," the man says, sufficiently afraid. He goes after Hisami, and finds him diving headfirst into a bargain bin of sequins and feathers, and he knows their outing is about to go off the rails as his son pops out of the bin with a purple sequined cape clutched in a tiny fist, ridiculous glasses askew on his nose.

"Very subtle, Bub," he says, smirking. Hisami sticks his tongue out at him. Hisami comes away with his choices looking like some funkadelic wizard, and he demands that Katsuki wear whatever he picks out for him. That's how he ends up in front of a mirror with a long black wig, regretting everything.

"I look like fucking Aizawa-sensei," he mutters under his breath, while Hisami holds a blue scarf up, presumably trying to decide if it would look good on Katsuki, or if he should add it to his own outfit.

"Language, Papa," he says, pinching Katsuki's leg. "Blue is not your color."

"You have no filter, you know that?"

"I don't know what that means." Hisami gives him a blank look, using a fingertip to draw his starry shades down his nose. Katsuki shakes his head. Of all the places he thought life would take him, he never could've guessed he'd be in a costume shop, his head sweating in an Aizawa wig. His life is definitely more colorful with Hisami in it, and he's not just talking about the gold scarf around his neck.

—

They've had a breakthrough. After countless bumbling, stilted, heavily accented conversations in Japanese, Enzo casually mentioned that his English is much better. Izuku hasn't taken an English course since his first year of university, but he's proficient enough to carry a conversation.

It's a lot easier to learn about Enzo while he's speaking English. Izuku has to strain a bit more to make sense of the words, but it's a much smoother conversation. He's having a great time, actually. He likes the curve of Enzo's mouth when he speaks. The roll of his tongue makes him think about kissing. He feels hot just thinking about it, so he gulps down some water.

And then a flash of pink over Enzo's shoulder catches his eye. Two tables away, there's a little boy with pink hair that looks alarmingly like his son. Next to him, hiding behind a menu, is Kacchan… in a ratty black wig. The sight of it sends Izuku into a tailspin. He sucks water into his lungs, and ends up coughing out half of it down the front of his shirt.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm _great!"_ He says, still choking and breaking. His eyes meet Kacchan's again, just over his menu. He tips his head up just enough to reveal his mouth.

"_Ambush,"_ he mouths around a snarky smirk.

Izuku balks when Hisami looks at him and gives a big wave. He looks like he's about to scream something, but Kacchan thankfully stops him, whispering something. Hisami makes himself smaller in his chair and puts a finger to his lips, and Kacchan does the same. They're sneaking.

Izuku's stomach is in knots the rest of his date. Enzo suspects nothing, and seemingly doesn't notice Izuku constantly checking over his shoulder. He rushes through the date, all thoughts of kissing gone out of his mind. He can't _kiss_ someone when Hisami is here, not to mention Kacchan. He's suddenly so frustrated he could cry. He can't be mad at Kacchan—it feels like he's not allowed to be because didn't some small part of him want this? Isn't this what he imagined when he used Kacchan the way he did? Maybe this is what he deserves. Maybe this is the other shoe dropping because he shouldn't be allowed to have something as wonderful as the experience of raising Hisami without something else to worry about.

"Are you feeling okay? You barely ate." Enzo looks concerned at the end of dinner, maybe a little nervous that he's not enjoying himself. Izuku feels even worse, guilting roiling in his intestines.

"I'm feeling a bit sick, actually," he lies. "Do you think we can do a rain check on the movie? I'm sorry."

"Of course! Is there anything I can do?"

"Ah, no. I'm okay." He smiles at Enzo, but he knows it's weak by the subtle dimming of his eyes.

"Alright. Give me a moment and then we'll head out."

Izuku nods and Enzo excuses himself to the restroom. As soon as he turns the corner Izuku is out of his seat and heading for Kacchan's table. The moment he sits down, Hisami crawls across the table into his lap.

"Button, what did I say about climbing?" He sounds tired, and Kacchan seems to pick up on that.

"You okay?"

Izuku can't believe he has the audacity to ask him that when he brought their kid out to ambush his date. He doesn't want to fight in front of Hisami, but he feels like he needs to say _something,_ so he says it in English.

"Do you really think it's appropriate to bring him here? You knew I was on a date."

"No fair, Papa! I don't know what you're saying." He pokes Izuku's chest, pouting.

"Do you think it's appropriate to ignore me for a month when we have a kid to take care of together?" Kacchan's English is flawless. Figures.

"This isn't the place to talk about that."

"Well, you keep dodging me. I had to do something," he grumbles unapologetically. Hisami is fed up with being ignored.

"Papa, I want to talk too. Look at my glasses."

"I love your glasses. What are you two doing here?"

"Catching villains!" He scratches at his wig, pushing it around so it's lopsided on his head. Sweaty blonde curls fall out of the bottom of the wig.

"Did you find any?"

"No, but Papa says it's because they're scared of me, so I did good. Who was that man with you?"

Izuku gives Kacchan a look that says _this is why you shouldn't have brought him._

"My friend, Enzo," Izuku says softly, and Hisami pouts.

"I don't like him. Papa is way better. You should come home with us!"

"What a great idea, Bub. We can go get dessert."

"Kacchan," he says, and it's a warning. He doesn't want to do this right now and he doesn't want Kacchan to use their son to get what he wants.

"Dessert! Yes, Papa, _please. _You never come to Papa's house, and we miss you." Hisami latches on to Izuku, and it's like a checkmate. Kacchan wins, as usual.

—

Katsuki doesn't like to admit when he's wrong, so he just doesn't do it. He doesn't want to admit that this was a bad, manipulative idea that probably ruined Deku's night, so he won't admit it. Still, watching the light leave Deku's eyes the moment he knows he's cornered makes Katsuki feel like the biggest shit in the world. It only gets worse when Deku's date gets back from the bathroom to find Izuku at their table with a three year old in his lap.

It's an understatement to say that this man is good looking. This mad is a _beautiful _specimen of the male species—soft brown eyes, flawless olive skin, and a shirt just tight enough to hint at some serious muscle—and there's Katsuki, in a ratty, cheap wig, staring at him like an idiot. Christ, if this is the kind of people that show interest in Deku, why the hell did he need him to have a kid?

"Midoriya?"

Deku goes stiff and looks behind him. He manages to give Katsuki his best glare before fully turning his head.

"Hey, sorry. My, uh… family is here. I just ran into them."

Enzo—that gorgeous, beautiful, _sexy_ man—eyes Hisami, and Katsuki wonders if Deku even told him he had a kid. Judging by the look on his face, he had no idea. Hisami pushes his glasses down again, eyeing him critically.

"You're pretty, but I don't like you."

"Hisami," Izuku says—it's almost a hiss. Katsuki's stunt tonight has obviously left Deku weary and with waning patience. Katsuki steps in.

"Hey, Bubba, let's wait for Papa outside."

After some griping from Hisami, he manages to bow out. Hisami chatters on about their mission and how itchy his wig is, but Katsuki is only half- listening. He's watching Deku and Enzo talk in the restaurant. He feels… off. It's a mix of the way he felt when he won his first-year sports festival because Todoroki _let _him—disappointed and cheated—and when he came second in the second-year sports festival—like second place is the first loser. He's not sure why he feels like he's in second place right now, but he doesn't like it. Katsuki fucked up royally, and he was already skating on thin ice when it comes to his relationship with Deku.


	23. Chapter 23

Izuku leaves the restaurant feeling a bit like he's been kicked in the stomach. Enzo looked apologetic when he broke things off, and he said it in a nice enough way, but still, he feels like the rug has been pulled out from under him. He simply said he didn't care for baggage, so a kid and an ex? That's at least two suitcases to drag along behind him. He doesn't particularly like or want kids. He's young and he likes to travel and his career is his sole focus—dating someone with a kid is just a deal breaker for him. Izuku can't fault him for that. Izuku can't seem to fault anyone for anything these days and it makes him want to scream.

Instead of screaming, he smiles and nods. This isn't the end of the world. He understands. Enzo isn't someone to cry over. He's beautiful, and it might've been nice to see where things went between them, but they're clearly fundamentally incompatible. No use crying over it. All he can do now is put on a brave face and follow behind Kacchan. Again. The resentment he feels burns in his gut, and it's multiplied tenfold by the guilt he feels for harboring that resentment in the first place. Who is he to resent Kacchan after what he's done? Crashing a date is nothing in comparison.

—

"So, your date…" he says, not really sure where to start. They've only just breached the threshold of his apartment, and Hisami has already disappeared to wrangle Cheeto out from under Katsuki's bed. Deku was completely silent when he left the restaurant and all the way through their dessert excursion, unless Hisami directly spoke to him.

"Probably my last one. Young, hot guys don't love the idea of dating someone with a kid."

"Oh. Well, that's his loss. Hisami is the shit."

For a moment, Deku just stares at him, his mouth pinched in the closest thing he's ever seen to a grimace. His eyebrows pull together and his eyes narrow just so before snapping back to an impassive blankness.

"He had to find out sooner or later."

He averts his gaze, and Katsuki is left wondering what he said to annoy him—and why Deku won't just have it out with him. They need to hash their shit out.

"Deku," he says, but he doesn't know what to say next. Maybe it's a good thing Deku puts up a hand in the universal _stop_ gesture.

"Let's just get Hisami to bed, and then I'll leave."

"Let's get him to bed, and _talk."_

Deku doesn't say anything, but his mouth pinches again, and he can tell his eyes are shiny with welling moisture. He's never been good with tears, which is to say he's never been good with Deku. He cries about everything, for just about every emotional response. Katsuki has never been good at deciphering the difference between happy, devastated, panicked, or frustrated crying. So, Katsuki tries to go the extra mile, if only to stave off tears.

"Please, Deku," he says. He can't remember the last time he said _please,_ but there it is. He feels an urge to suck that word back down his throat and clamp his mouth shut. Deku stares at him for a long moment, eyes guarded. He looks away when Hisami and Cheeto dart through the room.

"Okay," he whispers, voice cracking, before he follows after Hisami.

—

Deku can't seem to relax. He tries to be subtle, but Katsuki notices the way his eyes nervously trail all over his apartment, examining everything like he's out of place among his possessions. Katsuki remembers feeling the same way in Deku's apartment, and he can't believe it was only a few months ago that he waltzed back into his life.

Every now and then he'll start to pace around before catching himself. He finds a load of clean laundry Katsuki hadn't gotten around to, and starts folding them. He doesn't dare touch the clothes that are clearly Katsuki's, but he folds Hisami's shirts and pants perfectly, almost obsessively, creasing and folding until they lay perfectly, symmetrically flat.

Katsuki watches him do it for far longer than necessary. It's so oddly domestic that it brings all of Katsuki's dreams to the forefront of his mind. He imagines what it might be like to cohabitate with Deku, to share responsibilities like this. It's baffling that Katsuki feels close to Deku, despite the fact that they hardly talk, and they haven't known each other in a very long time.

He's starting to realize that that closeness he feels is a product of _wanting_ to be close. Deku didn't deserve the way Katsuki treated him when they were younger, and if he could, he'd take it back. He wants to be on good terms again—to repair the decades wide rift between them. He wants Deku to trust him because—despite all the ways they've wronged each other—Katsuki actually trusts Deku. He knows he's a good person with only the best intentions.

He doesn't understand where Deku's been, and why he's been so keen to avoid him, and that doesn't sit right with Katsuki. His month long silence left a vacuum that Katsuki is desperate to fill, but he's having trouble deciding if he wants all these things because it would be better for Hisami, or because Katsuki himself misses Deku.

"You've been avoiding me. Why?"

He blurts it out so suddenly that Deku jolts in surprise. His big, sad eyes connect with Katsuki's for just a moment before he refocused on folding Hisami's pajama pants. He's silent for a while, and it makes Katsuki itch.

"I'm trying to make this easier on everyone," he mumbles, eyes glued to a Frostfire long sleeve.

"By falling off the face of the earth?"

"By giving you space. By not cluttering up your life with my problems… and _feelings_."

_Feelings, _he thinks. He's not sure if he's imagining the connotation behind the word. The way he says it makes it feel weighty and serious—he's not referring to his penchant for tears. It's something _deeper._ That scares Katsuki, but it's not like Deku is the only person being antagonized by _feelings._ Katsuki just doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve.

Maybe he needs to.

Maybe he needs to stop waiting for Deku to yell at him. That's the way Katsuki likes to solve his problems, but he can't expect Deku to do that. He doesn't want to get to a point where Deku has bottled up so much shit that he explodes. He doesn't want things to get ugly again. He sighs.

"I didn't ask for space, Deku. You got it into your head that I don't want to be around you, and that's not the case."

"Your obligation is to Hisami. You don't have to… tolerate me," he says, and his voice is so brittle. He's moved on to folding Katsuki's clothes now, like he's so stuck in his head he hasn't even realized the shirts have quadrupled in size. He doesn't fold them the same way Katsuki does, but instead of snapping at him about it, he maneuvers to the floor, and begins to fold the clothes with him. They work in silence for a few minutes, the basket and all their fucked up feelings between them. He wants Deku to break the silence, but after what feels like an eternity, he gives up that hope.

"Do you realize we haven't fought in months? You realize that I've been making an effort to spend time with you?" His voice is soft. Katsuki's not a soft person, but he has a small reserve of soft and sweet and kind, and he's starting to realize he only doles out that softness to certain people—all named Midoriya.

"You shouldn't have to make an effort for me."

"I know I don't _have_ to do anything. I don't do shit I don't want to do," he snaps, and immediately wishes that reserve of kindness was slightly bigger.

"I don't know what to tell you, Kacchan." Still guarded. Still holding back for some reason. And Katsuki is pissed about it. It's unfair to keep him out.

"Tell me you're going to stop avoiding me. We're a fucking team, Deku. You can't leave me hanging like this."

Deku's face shrivels up like a dehydrated apple for a single second before he gets himself under control.

"_This_ is why I've been avoiding you," he blurts.

"I don't get it."

"_This._" He gestures wildly, accusingly at Katsuki. "You're being… nice. It's confusing and it hurts and I'm cracking under the pressure of trying not to fuck this peace up."

"That's…"

"Selfish and shitty, I know, but I've got to do what's right for me, too. I fucked everything up, but I don't know that I deserve to be this _miserable_ all the time."

"Of course, you don't deserve to be miserable. Is being around me really so horrible for you?"

"No. Yes. A bit…" he trails off, and fixes Katsuki with a burning stare, and Katsuki knows the truth is finally about to come out. "The guilt is eating me alive, Kacchan."

He whispers it, broken and ashamed. It hangs in the air between them and Katsuki isn't sure what to say. He's never considered Deku to be a dishonest person. He's too bad of a liar to get away with that, but he's withholding. Deku bends over backwards to avoid the truth, and that's almost worse than being a liar because he's only fooling himself.

"I thought we were doing well. I thought we were getting to know each other again. Why is that so hard for you?"

"You're going to get mad."

Katsuki rolls his eyes so viciously he half expects them to pop out of their sockets and fly across the room.

"Give me a little credit, Deku. I haven't freaked out on you yet," he barks, then, when his legendary blow-up pops unbidden into his mind, he amends his statement. "Well, not recently."

"It's like… I'm always waiting for you to turn on me again—because, of course, I'm going to fuck something up. I _always _do. And… if you're nice, and then you hate me again…. I'd rather have nothing than have you hate me."

Katsuki realizes the root of their issues, once again, comes back to decisions he made when he was a child, and it seems like no amount of outward kindness now can mitigate that age old hurt. They need to move past this, but Katsuki doesn't know where to start, or how to do it, or if it will even help.

"We've got a lot of baggage. I just… don't know if I'm ready to have that conversation."

"We don't have to have _any_ conversations," Deku says, vehement and avoidant again.

"Is that really what you want? Do you think that's going to be good for Hisami in the long run?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not going to beg you to talk to me, but I will say that I want you to. You've been supportive of me and bending over backwards to make this easy on me, and I haven't been able to do the same," he says. "I can't support you if you won't let me. You have to talk to me."

"I don't know how."

"You're doing it right now."

"And I'm sweating like a piglet in a slaughterhouse."

Katsuki smiles, but he turns his head to avoid letting Deku see it.

"It's a start."

"Hisami really wants to spend more time with both of us?"

"Yeah. He asks about you every night he's here."

"I didn't know." Deku's eyes are so expressive he can literally see his heart breaking in them. Hisami is his Achilles heel. He should've led with that, and saved them this long-winded, painful conversation. Still, he feels like they've come out better than before, even if all this emotional maturity has left him exhausted and moody and maybe a bit confused.

"Answer your phone," he says, poking a finger in Deku's chest the same way Hisami does when he means business. He ignores the way that small bit of contact sends a jolt of electricity up his spine. "And I'll keep you in the loop. Come for dinners and bedtime once a week, and I'll do the same when it's your turn."

Deku nods, but he looks miserable.

"And if you need a break, talk to me. This has to work for both of us."

Deku stares at him for a while, a hand unconsciously stuck to his chest, where Katsuki touched him. It makes him feel uncomfortable and hot, that look in his eye. He swallows and looks away, desperate to get back on track.

"I swear to god, Deku, that kid of ours is going to have the best fucking Christmas of his life. With both his dads. Got it?"

Deku's smile is small, but it's been a while since he's seen a Deku smile, so he'll take what he can get. That hot feeling comes back again.

"Got it, Kacchan."


	24. Chapter 24

Katsuki arrives just after three o'clock. Deku told him that nothing really starts before the sun goes down. Katsuki feels a surreal kind of ache knocking on Midoriya Inko's door. It's not the same apartment door he knew when he was a kid, but the feeling was the same. He knew what he was walking into. For all intents and purposes, he's made no real progress with the Midoriya family. Deku is still wary of him, of their tentative truce, and Auntie Inko is probably on high alert. He still doesn't know what exactly she knows of their shared past. Does she know he made Deku's life hell in middle school? Does she hate him for it? In the months since he's reentered Deku's life, she's been cordial, but distant. Courteous, but cool. He couldn't help but detect an undertone of suspicion in her voice every time they spoke.

She clearly knows that Hisami is half his, and that seems to be enough for her to maintain some semblance of the kindness she used with him when he was very young. Katsuki hates that, just a little. He hates the careful balancing act they all play at. He likes to know where he stands with people. He's never really know where he stood with Deku, or with Auntie Inko. These last few months had him thinking he doesn't know them as well as he always assumed.

He find himself wondering how much of their kindness is for Hisami's benefit. He sometimes wonders if they actually hate him, and the fact that the common tie between them all is an impressionable three year old, he wonders if they'd ever be honest with him.

That's the thing with nice people. They never want to ruffle any feathers. He finds, with truly nice, decent people, there's so much more bubbling under the surface. Deku never says what he feels, and though Katsuki may sometimes guess what he's thinking, he rarely thinks he's getting the full brunt of his thoughts. Christ, Deku would rather avoid him than be honest.

At least he doesn't have to wonder with Hisami.

"Papa!"

The door opens, and in seconds his little terror of a son is jumping into his arms, wiggling excitedly against him. Deku watched from behind the door, his hand still resting on the handle. He looks tentative and nervous.

"Hey, Bubba. I missed you."

"I always miss you," Hisami says, with a rare kind of unknowing, cutting clarity. "Merry almost Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Eve. What's going on?"

He kisses his chubby, freckled cheek and Hisami giggles. His tiny arms grip around his neck and Katsuki wonders how he'd gone his whole life without this full, contented feeling. He can't imagine not knowing this kind of comfort now that Hisami gives it away so freely.

"Ginger people! Obaasan made the dough and I cut them out."

"They're cooling now. We're going to frost them soon," Deku says, by way of a greeting. He gives a tentative smile, but it's not half as bright as it could be. Katsuki fights a frown. Hisami wiggles, ready to roam free, and Katsuki lets him run off, back to some hidden room within the house. He stares openly at Deku, taking his mental temperature.

"Hey, you alright?"

Deku nods, eyes shifting around.

"Hisami's glad you're here. Come on in."

Katsuki obliges, stepping over the threshold and into the warm atmosphere of Auntie Inko's home. It's not the same one from when he was a kid, but it _feels_ the same. Inviting and friendly and welcoming. It makes Katsuki's chest burn.

"I asked about you, Deku," he murmurs, keeping his voice low for fear of Hisami's eavesdropping.

"I'm fine, Kacchan. I want this to be a good couple of days."

"It will be. I'm excited. I've never taken Christmas off before," he blurts out, trying to bring Deku out of the somber, little shell he's cloistered himself in.

"What? Seriously?"

"Seriously. Never hand a reason to."

Deku stares at him like he's just sprouted another head on his shoulders. He knows it odd—for normal people, at least. His family wasn't one for big holidays, and Ground Zero was never one to shy away from overtime.

"Well, Merry Christmas, then." Deku starts to walk away, further into the house, but Katsuki's stops him with a firm grip.

"You and me—are _we _okay? I just… this shit is going to be weird enough with both our parents here tomorrow, and I just want to make sure you and I are on the same page."

Deku stares at him, biting his lip. He can see the skin is raw and red—he's been picking at it, just like when they were kids. He finally lets his poor, ruined bottom lip go to breathe out a sigh.

"Your mom is going to kill me."

Katsuki almost laughs at the blatant terror in Deku's expression, but he doesn't. This isn't a time to make light of the situation, and Katsuki knows his mother well enough to know that Deku's fears are more than justified.

"I won't let her. You run interference with your mom and I'll do the same with mine."

Deku gives him an odd look, like he can't fathom that Katsuki is just as apprehensive as he is.

"My mom's fine." He says it almost like it's a question, and Katsuki gives him an exasperated look.

"Your mom doesn't like me. She probably wants me around even less than you do, and that's fine, but I'll be damned if I let the holidays be ruined by any drama."

Deku has the audacity to look wounded for about three seconds before his gaze melts into something softer.

"I want you around, Kacchan."

Deku walks away, leaving Katsuki in the entryway, feeling unmoored, but slightly hopeful.

Maybe they can get through the holiday together. Maybe they don't have to fight, or run interference, or be on opposing sides. Maybe they can just _be,_ and things will fall into place.

—

"Where's his eyes?"

Kacchan stares at Hisami's sad excuse for a gingerbread snowman, looking perplexed. Izuku feels a squabble coming on. He likes it when Hisami and Kacchan argue. It's like watching Kacchan argue with his petulant, younger self, and it always makes for a good laugh.

"This is the back of his head! You can't see his face."

"What the hell is that, then?" Kacchan puts down the frosting bag and points at the little curved frosting line at the base of the snowman.

"_Language!"_ Hisami huffs, standing on his chair to get in Kacchan's face. "Ask nice, Papa."

Kacchan huffs in a very similar fashion to Hisami, but he looks thoroughly subdued. He tries again.

"What is that?"

Izuku stares. It's a wonder Kacchan hasn't figured it out.

"His butt!" Hisami giggles—the word alone always makes him giggle, but the look of pure, unadulterated confusion on his father's face could only add to his glee. Both Izuku and his mom do their best to stifle their laughs. Kacchan shakes his head.

"You're something else, kid."

The decorating only lasts for maybe an hour and a half, and by the end of it, at least four gingerbread men have no faces, and buttcheeks on full display.

Izuku feels unexpectedly calm. This is no different than when they first started spending time together again—Kacchan making dinner with Hisami's futile help, and Izuku watching from far corners with a sense of wonder. Kacchan is good with kids, an unexpected realization that truly baffled him, at first. He wonders if it's because it's Hisami, if it's because they're so similar they just seem to read each other without knowing it.

As always, these thoughts give way to more intrusive daydreams—fleeting, fantastical thoughts of a domestic, familial togetherness Izuku never would've allowed himself to dream of if he wasn't bearing witness to it.

These were the thoughts he was avoiding when he decided to distance himself from Kacchan. These thoughts always brought joy and guilt in equal measure. Sometimes, when he watched Kacchan and Hisami, he wished he could go back. When Hisami fell asleep in Kacchan's lap, he wished Hisami had always had that luxury from the beginning. When Hisami went to sleep with a kiss on his cheek from both his Papas, he wished he'd done right by both of them. More than any future he ever imagined, he liked to rework the past.

When he was alone with his thoughts, they often drifted to that one chance meeting. What if he'd just been honest? What if he'd just gone out on a limb and _asked_ Kacchan's permission? He sometimes thought of the conversation that might've taken place if he was a bit braver, a bit less repugnant.

He probably would've said no, but he _could've _said yes. He could've had a choice, and could've chosen to be with them from the beginning. Hisami could've had this the whole time. Two dads, two sets of grandparents. Double the love and half the drama.

Those thoughts were always the worst, but remained the most pervasive.

—

Katsuki cooks dinner with Auntie, and it's the first time they've actually been somewhat alone with one another. They work quietly, but the underlying tension leave Katsuki stiff with anticipation. He pauses in his assault on the cutting board to look at Hisami and Deku in the other room. Hisami is shaking all the gifts under the tree, trying to guess what might be within. Deku looks at Hisami like he's the only thing in the room, like he's the only person in his life. Sometimes, Katsuki allows himself to think about exactly why Deku thought it might've been a good idea to have Hisami exactly the way he did. He'd never figured himself for an empathetic person, but sometimes he'd catch the way Izuku looked at their son, and something would click.

He couldn't say he knew anything about profound loneliness, couldn't really imagine it, but that must've been how Deku felt. Not for the first time, he'd wonder about Deku's past, his dating life, his time in university. He didn't think Deku was a bad person, but in his line of work, he'd seen so many seemingly good people do terrible things in the name of grief, fear, or loneliness.

"Katsuki, did you hear me?"

"Hah?" Katsuki mumbled, his eyes finding Auntie Inko's. She looked mildly judgemental, like she was sizing him up. He hadn't realized he'd been staring after them, lost in his thoughts, the knife in his hand hovering uselessly over half-chopped carrots.

"I asked how things are with you and Izuku." Her deep, green eyes bored into him. They tended to have the same effect his dad's always had on him. He couldn't lie to her.

"I don't know." He goes back to chopping carrots, slower and more methodically than before. He resists the urge to fidget under her knowing eyes.

"Katsuki, I don't approve of what Izuku did. I love him, and I'm always going to support him, but I want to understand what's going on. I want to support you, too, for Hisami's sake."

Katsuki nearly chops off his own thumb, he's so distracted by her words. Of all the things he imagined she'd say to him, this was never once on his mind. He stares at her, heart in his throat.

"Thanks, Auntie," he mumbles, flustered. The guilt he feels over the things he's done to her son slightly outweigh the lightness he feels at her quasi-approval. He's not brave enough to tell her about that, though. If he did, he'd have to apologize, and apologies always stuck in his windpipe like shards of glass.

If he couldn't make himself apologize to Deku, he wouldn't make himself apologize to his mother. He might be able to someday, but not now, not tonight, when his son was flying high at the idea of a holiday together.

"For what it's worth, I don't—" Katsuki pauses, trying to find the right words. "I don't regret any of this. If… if I had to have a kid, I'd want him to grow up with someone like you. A good family. You're good people, and it could be a lot worse."

Auntie Inko squeezes his shoulder lovingly before passing behind him, continuing on with her cooking.

"Maybe that's something you and Izuku should talk about," she says lightly. "Clear the air. Put the past to rest."


	25. Chapter 25

"Hisami, it's time for bed," Deku says, his voice low and authoritative. Hisami is sugared up and high on the prospect of Christmas morning, and so, obviously they've been trying to wrangle him to bed for over an hour.

"Papa's got his glasses on, so he means business!" Hisami mocks and giggles and jumps on the couch in the living room. Katsuki does a horrible job of keeping his laughter at bay. That only serves to make Hisami even less inclined to sleep, and Deku gives him a pointed glare when Hisami isn't looking.

He looks so old with his glasses and his tired, stern expression. This is the most time they've spent together in two months, and it clearly wears on Deku. Katsuki sighs.

"That's right, twerp. We both mean business. We're all sleepy, and Santa won't come if you're still awake."

"I'm not _twerp!_ I'm a good Bubba."

"Oh, yeah? Prove it. Pajamas on and teeth brushed. Hop to it."

Hisami pouts, but he still climbs the stairs, babbling to himself about being a good boy. Deku smiles as he watches him go, and then he turns it on Katsuki.

"You're getting good at this."

"Doesn't feel like it. Feels like most of the time, he walks all over me and I say _thank you."_

"I can relate. Really, though, you're good with him. He listens to you."

"How the hell did he get to be so much like me?"

"I guess stubbornness is an inherited trait." Deku smirks, his glasses catching the light. Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"He gets that from _you."_

"Oh, please! I'm an angel."

"You know, Hisami said the same thing to me the first time I cooked at your apartment. Maybe being delusional runs in the family, too."

Deku laughs goodnaturedly, and Katsuki feels the tense energy he's been lugging around all day melt away. This is good, this lighthearted banter. Katsuki thinks they could both talk about their kid for hours. He just wishes they could talk about other things so casually.

"So, there are two extra beds upstairs. I have no doubt Hisami will demand he sleeps with you."

"That okay with you?"

"Of course, Kacchan," Deku says evenly. Katsuki assesses him, looking for any sign of jealousy. He finds nothing, so Katsuki lets himself preen at the thought of being the temporary favorite.

"Alright. Let's go make sure our stubborn, little angel is actually getting ready for bed."

They walk up the stairs together, and it feels so familial and domestic that Katsuki's heart seizes in his chest. They can do this.

—

Katsuki wakes before the sun because Hisami is patting his cheek. He groans. They stayed up until almost midnight, getting everything ready for Christmas morning. Deku offered to do it himself, but Katsuki wanted to be included. He spent the evening watching Deku like a hawk, committing every small detail to memory. They don't wrap Santa presents, they only take a few bites out of the Santa cookies, and the stockings are filled to the brim with candy. Deku judiciously set the coffee maker to start at five am, and told him to prepare to be exhausted before they said goodnight and went to their respective bedrooms.

"Papa, it's present time."

"It's sleep time."

"It's _Christmas!_ Get up!" Hisami shakes his shoulders, bouncing up and down on the bed. Katsuki groans again and pries open his crusty eyes.

"Alright, alright. I'm up. Merry Christmas, Bubba."

"Merry Christmas. I love you, Papa."

Katsuki's heart flutters. Despite his complaints, his rocky relationship with Deku, and the impending doom of spending the day with his parents, Katsuki's excited for what the day will bring. The first of many holidays with his wonderful son. How did he get so lucky?

_Deku, _he thinks, his mind supplying him with a reluctant, albeit honest answer.

"Enough to let me sleep?"

"_No," _he squeals, flopping over Katsuki's prone body to wiggle off the bed. As if on cue, Deku knocks lightly on the half-open door.

"I thought I heard a little gremlin. Merry Christmas, Button. You giving Kacchan a hard time?"

"Merry Christmas! Where's Obaasan?" Hisami bounces around in his new Frostfire footie pajamas, yanking on Deku's pant leg.

"Be careful, I have hot coffee. I don't want to spill."

Katsuki perks up at the mention of coffee, and he immediately hones in on the novelty All Might mug in Deku's hand.

"Obaasan is downstairs. Go tell her Merry Christmas."

Hisami whirls away like the human disaster he is, leaving him alone with Deku. He sits up in bed, and Deku offers him a mug of sweet, life giving coffee. He takes it with an almost reverent thanks, sweeping his legs out from under the blankets. Deku's more than a little pink in the cheeks, eyeing the ceiling. That's when Katsuki remembers he's in nothing but a pair of boxers.

"Um, you should get dressed. Hurry because Hisami won't want to wait and I'm sure you won't want to miss it."

"Ah, right. I'll be down in a second."

Deku squeaks out an _mhmm_ and leaves, closing the door behind him. Katsuki, blushing and awkward, hastens to get dressed in the Ground Zero pajama set Auntie Inko bought him. It's a tradition to wear their new pajamas on Christmas morning, and who's he to stand in the way of that?

—

Izuku thinks he may have had an aneurysm. Is he dead? Did he ascend to a higher plane of existence? He tries to remember what life was like before he saw Kacchan's half-naked body.

"Merry Christmas to me," he mutters, completely unable to keep his thoughts from spilling out of his mouth.

"What was that, nerd?" Kacchan asks, coming down the stairs—fully dressed, unfortunately. Izuku jolts and slaps a hand over his mouth. Hisami intervenes before Izuku can embarrass himself.

"Papa! Your jammies look dumb."

"Hisami, you picked those out for him," Auntie Inko says, a soft smile playing across her face.

"No, I picked the Frostfire ones. Papa wouldn't let me get them."

"Thank god for that," Kacchan grumbles under his breath, and Izuku chuckles. Kacchan smiles at him, and it's not his usual cocky smirk. Maybe it's because Kacchan is tired, a little mussed from sleep, and in his own fluffy merch, but he looks incredibly soft to Izuku. Izuku could heat the whole house, he blushes so violently. He looks away.

"Alright, Hisami. What did Santa bring you?" His mother, bless her, pipes up. From there, there's no time for awkward silences or surreptitious looks. All eyes are on Hisami as he tears through his gifts, inspecting every single one. He only cries three times, a new record, and he spends the morning playing with his new Lego sets and forcing Kacchan to snuggle his new plushies. Izuku feels warm and light and maybe a little hopeful. Maybe if he stops fighting this, everything will fall into place.


	26. Chapter 26

Once the Christmas morning high wears off for Hisami and his new toys are picked up, a calm quiet falls over the house. It's nice, sitting on the couch with a half-awake Kacchan, watching Hisami scribble in his newest coloring book. His mom graciously cooks breakfast for everyone, and Izuku takes it upon himself to keep the coffee flowing. He hoists himself up, and Kacchan wordlessly hands him his empty coffee cup—they've established a routine, and it seems he's too tired to complain about being waited on.

He hands him the full mug when he comes back and plops on the couch, a contented sigh leaving his lips unbidden. The quiet moments with Kacchan are the best. It might be the only time he isn't worried about ruining things. When they were kids, Izuku learned early on that Kacchan always said exactly what he was thinking. When he's silent, it's because he has nothing to say.

"Thanks, Deku. One more cup and I think I'll be alive." He sips his coffee and smirks. Izuku allows himself a small laugh.

"It really throws you off when you don't get your eight hours, huh?"

Kacchan shrugs, and Izuku can't help but follow the movement of his collar bones with a thirsty gaze. Kacchan has a habit of wearing tiny, tight tank tops that leave little to the imagination. It's even worse now that he doesn't have to imagine it—he's seen Kacchan in all his glory after this morning. He feels an urge to slap himself in an attempt to pull his mind out of the gutter. He's so preoccupied with his thoughts, he blurts out something truly stupid.

"I pity the sleep you'll lose when you have a baby, someday. It turns you into a zombie." They both freeze up at the mention of a baby, and Izuku's afraid of what comes next. Kacchan gives him an incredulous look.

"What makes you think I'll have another kid?"

Izuku looks at Kacchan, at his blatant beauty and easy grace, and the guilt consumes him again. Izuku deprived him of so much in the first years of Hisami's life, he just assumed Kacchan would want to experience that, now that he knows how wonderful it is to have a kid.

"I don't know. You might meet someone someday and want a kid… to get to have all the things I took away from you."

"You know I'm gay, right? Kids were never in the cards for me," he says, looking extremely vulnerable. Izuku is struck by the honesty. Kacchan always says what he means, but he's rarely so emotional, so willing to admit a weakness. He can't believe Kacchan is willing to share this with him. He always suspected he might be—there were so many girls salivating after him in middle school and he never once gave them the time of day. Izuku holds up a hand, wiggling his fingers awkwardly.

"I could help with that. You can never say never in a world of Quirks."

"I don't need any of that. Hisami is more than enough."

Izuku's smile is small and guilty, but so fond as he looks from Kacchan to their son.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, I'd do anything to help you out," he says, and he means it, but the thought of Kacchan giving his free time to some faceless spouse, or a baby that isn't Hisami breaks his heart just a bit. It'd be selfish to hope he doesn't change his mind.

"Alright. Enough about that. What's on the agenda today? What do I need to do?"

"After breakfast, he'll need a bath. I do have to warn you, he's going to hate taking pictures today. My mom always buys him a Christmas outfit and tries to get him to sit still long enough for a few pictures. It's a whole production, and they always turn out terrible."

Kacchan laughs, looking over at their messy son. He's rolling around in a pile of new hero-themed blankets, making his Frostfire action figure fight with his Ground Zero one.

"Alright. I'll take care of bath time. My parents are getting here at noon. They're bringing food and shit, and a metric fuckton of gifts for Hisami."

"I'm sure he's excited to spend the day with family."

"I told my mom she better be on her best behavior, so try to enjoy yourself too," he says, draining his mug with one final gulp. He seems far more awake now, and he stands to stretch out, muscled arms reaching toward the ceiling. His tank top rides up, showing the slightest bit of the bare, tanned skin of his stomach.

"Don't worry about me, Kacchan. Let's go see if my mom needs any help in the kitchen."

Izuku is desperate to hang on to these moments—the calm before the storm. He doesn't want to think about the awkward situations or the hostility he's most certainly heading toward.

—

"Hisami, I'm begging you, please don't fuck with the bow tie." Kacchan stands behind Inko, trying to calm Hisami down long enough for her to snap a picture. It isn't working, but then again, it never does. After spending an hour bathing their wiggle worm of a child and maneuvering him into his Christmas outfit—a crisp button-up shirt, plaid shorts, and a red bow tie—he stands near the Christmas tree, fidgeting with his tight collar and mussing up his carefully combed curls.

"Language, Papa!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'd really like a nice picture of you, alright? So, please behave."

"All my pictures are nice! I'm cute!" He huffs, pouting at the insinuation that he might be even the slightest bit unphotogenic. Izuku stifles a laugh in his hand, more than happy to watch the scene unfold.

"Of course you are, Bubba. This one's super special, though. It's our first Christmas all together, right? Isn't that cool?"

"Where's your bow tie, then?"

Izuku guffaws, unable to keep his laughing at bay. Kacchan scowls at him, but Hisami looks pleased. He stops fidgeting just long enough to laugh, and his mom snaps the picture quickly.

"Perfect! I knew you could do it, Hisami. What a good boy!"

"Can I put my jammies on now?"

"No jammies, but you can take the bow tie off."

Hisami groans, throws his arms up and collapses on the ground, pretending to faint. Izuku watches with stars in his eyes as Kacchan smiles fondly and picks him up off the ground. His heart is sore with want.

—

"Obaasan! Ojiisan! Merry Christmas," Hisami screeches the second his mom and dad set foot in the house. They're loaded down with precisely wrapped gifts and foil wrapped serving dishes. Hisami flits around them, attempting to inspect his presents and tripping them up in the doorway.

Deku picks Hisami up to get him out of the way, and Katsuki takes one of the heavier dishes from his mother's hands.

"Thanks, brat. Fatherhood's made you more considerate."

"Oi, shut it, hag."

Despite their harsh words, they smile at each other.

"Papa, you be nice to my Obaasan!" Hisami wails, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"You tell him, kid. Let's get this to the kitchen, so you can open all your gifts," she coos sweetly, smiling at her grandson, and somehow completely ignoring Deku, as if he's a piece of furniture Hisami is hanging off of, as opposed to the person that made Hisami possible.

Katsuki peeks over at Deku and finds that he looks simultaneously constipated and terrified, but he does his best to interact. He shifts Hisami on his hip, so he can help his dad with the bags.

"I can take some of those, Uncle. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Izuku. Thanks for having us."

"Thank Inko. It's her house," his mom snaps, and Katsuki swears he sees Deku wilt like a dying flower.

"Ma," Katsuki says, just as his father—in the same disapproving tone—says, "Mitsuki."

She ignores them and haughtily shoves past them to escape the entryway. His dad follows suit, but not without an apologetic look at Katsuki. Deku puts Hisami down and pointedly suggests that he go check out his new presents. He doesn't have to tell him twice.

"Deku—"

"It's fine, Kacchan."

"I'll talk to her."

"Don't worry about it. As long as Hisami doesn't pick up on it, everything is fine."

He walks away and Katsuki feels like the day is headed for disaster.

—

Luckily, his mom is slightly more behaved. She opts to sit as far away from Deku as possible, so there's a two-person buffer between them at the dining table. Deku is quiet in her presence. He only rouses himself enough to speak to Hisami, and only when he's directly addressed. It makes Katsuki's stomach hurt, but it's probably for the best. The last thing anyone needs for their first Christmas together is for his mother to flip a table or use a broken wine glass as a shiv. If he's this stressed about it, he can only imagine how Deku feels. What a fucking day. At least Hisami is oblivious and enjoying himself.

—

"Papa!"

Both Katsuki and Deku look over at their son, as they often do when he addresses them both the same way. They've tried to get Hisami to choose a different name for one of them, but Hisami refused. He only shook his head and said _I have two papas—Papa and Papa. _It made sense to his three year old logic, so they let it go. Still, no one—maybe not even Hisami, most of the time—really knew who he was addressing at any given moment.

"What do you need, Bub?

"I need Papas!" He stomps his bare foot haughtily, working himself up.

"Both of us?"

"_Yes,"_ he says, like it's painfully obvious. He rolls his eyes and crosses his skinny arms. Katsuki looks at Deku with a furrow in his brows and a question in his eyes. Deku only shrugs, and moves to appease their son. Katsuki follows suit. When they're in place, Deku asks.

"Alright, Button, what's up?"

Hisami looks smug, and points upward at the sprig of mistletoe situated above the doorway.

"Now kiss!"

Deku makes a sound like he choked on a kazoo and Hisami just keeps pointing skyward, waiting for his plan to come to fruition, a shitty little grin on his face. They raised the cutest, most manipulative little boy out there, and while he was slightly proud, he was also internally screaming on a loop.

"Um, Kacchan," Deku says, with all the familiar awkwardness of his middle school self. He moves closer to Katsuki, and he has to stop himself from running away. He's no punkass coward. He can kiss Deku, no problem. Blessedly, Deku doesn't kiss him. He just whispers the game plan in his ear, and tension releases off him in waves. He nods.

Deku picks Hisami up and puts him on his hip. Hisami looks slightly less pleased by this development, but he hasn't lost hope just yet.

"Ready, Kacchan?" Deku asks sweetly, bouncing Hisami slightly.

"Born ready."

"One, two, three."

On three, they both kiss Hisami's cheek with a loud, exaggerated _smack,_ squishing him between them. Hisami looks well and truly pissed, and Katsuki, unfortunately, adds fuel to the fire.

"You really thought you did something there, huh?"

"Shut _up, _Papa!" He shoves meanly at Deku, and he had no choice but to put him down.

"Hisami," Deku says, sad, but chastising. "Wh—"

"_No!"_ Hisami bellows. He stomps all the way upstairs, huffing and puffing. He hears a door slam somewhere in the house.

"Shit," he says. "I'll go talk to him."

"No, give him a few minutes. He'll calm down on his own."

"Fuck. Yeah, okay." Katsuki sighs, deferring to Deku because he should know better than anyone. Katsuki's familiar with his own tantrums at that age, and he can't remember anyone giving him space. His dad would try to coddle him or his mom would try to scream him into submission. He vaguely remembers a time when he was younger, and having a nuclear level freak out over nothing in particular, and Deku just sat down on the ground and ignored him, fiddling with whatever he had on hand at the moment. It pissed him off at first, but he was so distracted by being left alone that it calmed him down in record time. He remembers Deku held his hand and apologized to him. For what, he couldn't say, but it made him feel better.

"You can't really blame him for trying to Parent Trap you. I'm sure your bullshit has been really confusing for him," his mother says, and that's when he realized this entire bit of theater just played out in front of their families.

"Mom," he says, a warning clear in his tone, but when has a Bakugo ever taken a warning as anything other than a challenge?

"I'm serious. Who do you think you are, Izuku? You can't use my son, keep everyone in the dark for _years, _and as soon as you trap him, you avoid him?"

Katsuki instantly regrets openly complaining when Deku was icing him out. He didn't actually complain _to_ her, but of course she was listening.

"Fuck," he hisses under his breath. Deku looks like he's ready to melt into the floor.

"Yeah, I know all about that. How fucking dare you? You can't be obsessed and avoidant at the same time. You're only hurting that kid, and you've hurt _everyone _here by being a selfish liar."

"Auntie—"

"Don't you dare call me anything like that," she snaps, and Katsuki swears a tremor in the earth accompanies it.

"Mom, stop."

"Mitsuki, this isn't right," his dad says, in his soft, pleading tone. Katsuki looks at Deku again, and he's surprised by how pissed off he looks. He takes a deep breath, and Katsuki has no idea what he could possibly say.

"Please, believe me when I say that I know this is hard for you. I know all of this is my fault, and I know I'll never make it up to any of you, and the guilt is going to stay with me forever, but don't act like this in front of my—_our_—kid. The second he picks up on this dynamic is the second I stop being sweet and repentant. If being civil is too much for you, you can leave."

_Oh, shit. _Katsuki can't help but be impressed. He likes Deku with a backbone.

"Izuku," his mom starts, softly, but he cuts her off.

"Excuse me," he mutters before vacating the room and heading for the backyard. Katsuki finds himself torn between going after him and going upstairs to comfort his son.

"Goddamn it. What the fuck, Ma? _Jesus."_

In the end, he chooses his son because it's easier. That doesn't stop him from feeling guilty about it. He wants to go to Deku, but he's thinking too hard about it. He's thinking about how similar him and his mother are—how easy it is to see Katsuki berating Deku in the same way she just did. He knows he's said worse to Deku—especially in the beginning, when he first found out about Hisami. He doesn't want to be like that anymore, and he doesn't want his family to suffer through that kind of animosity.

He pushes open the door to find Hisami sprawled across the bed, passed out. He smiles, glad to know Hisami didn't hear any of the conversation downstairs, but now that he knows Hisami is fine, that feeling that he needed to choose Deku this time around grows, dropping heavy in his gut.


	27. Chapter 27

Izuku woke the day after Christmas with an emotional hangover—anxious, tired, and wholly ready to sleep for another eight hours. He should've known better than to believe it would be anything other than a lesson in utter humiliation, and the dressing down of a lifetime. The worst thing of all was that he had no real defense. She was absolutely right, but there's a time and a place for things like that. Within earshot of an impressionable, hapless child would never be the place, and she should've known better. Still, somehow, Mitsuki's antics served to bring him and Katsuki closer together.

He remembers the utter shock he experienced when his intense brooding session in the backyard was interrupted. He half-expected his mom to come out and scold him for the way he spoke to Mitsuki, but it was Kacchan.

"She left. Come back inside. It's fucking freezing out here."

Izuku stared up at Kacchan, completely taken aback. He didn't expect him to come out here, to take his side. Kacchan liked to fight with his mother because they were so similar, but Izuku knew, in the moment, that he was taken by surprise—probably completely cowed by the truth of her outburst. The simple action of coming to check on him felt like solidarity in some minute way. Izuku, stewing in his misery, bitterly reflected on how something so minimal could mean so much to him. Izuku spent most of his childhood reading into the things Kacchan did or didn't do, good or bad, searching desperately for morsels of care that weren't actually there. This felt different.

"Hisami?"

"Passed out. I don't think he heard anything."

"That's good. Kacchan, I'm—"

"Don't you dare apologize. This isn't your fault. My old hag's just being stubborn."

Kacchan's words rang a bit false, but Izuku appreciated the attempt at comfort.

"So much for a perfect holiday," Izuku said, his voice as weak as he felt. Kacchan sat beside him on the porch, heaving a sigh.

"My dad wants to apologize. He'd like to go out to lunch. _Just the boys, _he said."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"Couldn't hurt. Dad's the only one who can convince my mom not to be an asshole. He's good like that."

Izuku, against his better judgement, let out a watery laugh. He hates how easy it is to believe Kacchan, to allow himself to be set at ease by a reluctant, sharp smile. He feels lighter just by his proximity.

"Is my mom mad?"

"Not at you. My parents left before I came back down, but I think your mom reamed her out. She's aggressively washing dishes now—muttering, just like you."

Hisami bursts into his bedroom, far too awake for the early hour, and cuts Izuku's reminiscence short.

"Papa! There's snow outside! Can we play?"

"The sun is barely up, Button," he says, with about as much enthusiasm as he could muster if his son had asked to go dumpster diving. Hisami wiggles up onto the bed and flops over Izuku's prone form.

"Well, I called Papa and he said he's on his way!"

Izuku was immediately awake—no morning cup of coffee necessary.

"What?"

Hisami giggles, and pulls Izuku's cell phone out of the tummy pocket on his onesie. He immediately regrets leaving his phone on the coffee table. He unlocks it and thumbs through his recent calls. Indeed, there's a call to Kacchan from roughly thirty minutes ago.

"How'd you know my password?"

"Papa showed me! He said it's important to know how to call for help. For emergencies."

"How did _he_ know my password?" Izuku mutters, wondering what Kacchan might've found in the password protected depths of his phone, or when he could've poked around in it. He doesn't expect Hisami to answer him, but he does.

"0502! He said that means my birthday. So, can we play in the snow now?"

"Let's wait for Kacchan. And for the daylight." He pulls Hisami to him, and he knows he doesn't actually want to be up and about yet because he lets it happen, kicking his legs under the covers and fitting himself against Izuku. Eventually, they both fall back to sleep.

—

"Care to explain how our son called you at the crack of dawn this morning?" Deku asks, folding his arms across his chest the moment Hisami runs off. He grew tired of making a snowman about ten minutes into the whole endeavor, but he made it clear he expected the snowman to be built before he puttered away to fresher snow. He's only a few feet away, making snow angels.

Katsuki hates the cold—hates snow even more—but he can't imagine spending the day any other way. He's careful not to look guilty under Deku's scrutiny. He carefully packs more snow onto the second level of their half-built snowman before answering.

"Technology Quirk?" Katsuki knows it's a shit lie. He knows Deku doesn't believe him in the slightest, but he's got to defend himself somehow.

"You know he already incriminated you. Why do you know my phone password, Kacchan?"

"It was either Hisami's birthday, or All Might's. You're predictable, Deku."

"And _why_ are you thinking about my phone password at all?"

"Afraid I saw something I shouldn't?"

Katsuki spares a glance at Deku as he packs more snow into the snowman. He was already pink from the cold, but now his exposed skin is a hot, embarrassed red. _Sinful,_ Katsuki thinks, before he mentally slaps himself, and reminds himself not to let his dreams bleed into his daily life.

"I'm entitled to my privacy, Kacchan. As are you."

Katsuki valiantly fights an eye roll because he knows he's in the wrong, and the twinge of anger stems purely from his annoyance at being caught.

"I may have… gone a bit overboard in my parental protectiveness in the early days. Shared your location with me while you were in the bathroom."

"Kacchan!" Deku splutters. He has the audacity to throw a packed chunk of snow directly at Katsuki's head, but he dodges in the last second. "What the _fuck?"_

Deku seems to think for a moment, and then, with startling speed, he pulls another chunk of snow off their snowman and beams him with it. Katsuki catches it in the face, and feels the heat of his embarrassment and rage melt the snow that much faster.

"_Oi!"_

"Is that how you found me during my date with Enzo?"

Sometimes, Katsuki hates how smart Deku is. He sighs, but before he can say anything, he's pelted with another snowball.

"How dare you?"

Another snowball. He bats it away, ready this time.

"Deku, chill out."

"_No! _Why would you do that?" Another snowball. It hits Katsuki's chest. "What do you gain from butting into my personal life?"

"I—" Another snowball. This one smacks directly into his open mouth, and Katsuki can't abide by it anymore. "Quit it!"

He bends to build up his own snowballs, to retaliate even though he's got no right to.

"_No! _Kacchan, he was so—I could've—!"

Katsuki pegs him in the chest with his own snowball, but he doesn't say anything. He just needed to physically defend himself. Deku throws the entirely of the second level of the snowman at Katsuki, and it's so big he actually grunts when he catches it against his chest, like when he throws medicine balls with his trainer. Luckily, it doesn't break, and he sets it back on the base of the snowman.

"He said he didn't like kids, anyway! What's it matter?" Katsuki bellows, thoroughly done with taking Deku's shit.

"It was _my _business, Kacchan! I was going to tell him in my own time! He actually _liked _me, and—"

Out of nowhere, a snowball collides with Katsuki's back. Both of their attentions caught, they stare back at Hisami.

"Snowball fight!" He squeals, packing more snow in his gloved hands and lobbing it in Katsuki's direction. They both stare, practically dumbstruck, at their son, almost completely forgotten in their hasty argument. Hisami giggles, and bends on uncoordinated limbs to make another ball of packed, powdery snow.


	28. Chapter 28

After the impromptu snowball fight, Katsuki heads home with soaked socks and an excitable toddler in tow. Deku is pissed at him, that much is clear. It's out of the ordinary, to say the least, but it's kind of refreshing. The playing field feels leveled, somehow. Snooping through Deku's phone—which he _didn't do—_is hardly as bad as using Katsuki to father a child without his consent, but it seems to confirm that they're both capable of being sneaky, secretive bastards to each other if it means getting their way.

Katsuki's not sure what Deku's actually upset about—the invasion of privacy, or for ruining his chances with Enzo. Probably both, but Deku's spluttering, aborted sentences as he lobbed snowballs at his head keeps replaying in his mind.

_He was so—I could've—_

It's not hard to fill in the blanks. He was so hot, beautiful, perfect? Deku could've… could've what? Slept with him? Dated him? Used him to get over whatever _feelings _Deku admitted to harboring towards Katsuki?

_He actually _liked _me, and—_

And what? Deku liked him too? He remembers the way Deku looked when he said it. Like he lost something huge, something special he doesn't get to have often. And Katsuki ruined that for him. He should feel worse about it than he does. Mostly, he feels an ugly, burning jealousy at the thought of Deku spending his time with anyone that isn't him or Hisami—anyone that lives outside of the titles of _family _or _friend._ He can only imagine how much more complicated their situation would be if Deku added a boyfriend to the mix, or _god forbid, _a potential step-dad. Hisami doesn't need another dad. Two is plenty, and three is a crowd.

Is that what Deku wants? Some cute guy to shack up with whenever Hisami is at his place? Is he really that desperate for affection?

_Yes, _Katsuki thinks, no doubt in his mind. People don't grow up the way Deku did and manage to have healthy, easy relationships.

_Ah, there's the guilt._

—

It comes as no surprise that Deku doesn't reach out to him in the following days. Katsuki sends him texts to test the waters—simple things about Hisami's stuff. Favorite notebooks, action figures, the missing match to his favorite pair of socks. All the replies are timely and curt. It's different than when Deku was intentionally avoiding him, but it still sucks the same.

"Oi, Bubba, wanna help me with something?"

Hisami looks up from his coloring book, eyes sharp.

"I love helping!"

"Good. Hold this up for me. We're gonna send it to Deku." Katsuki hands him a piece of paper, ripped from Hisami's notebook and written on with an orange crayon in Katsuki's handwriting.

"What's it say, Papa?" Hisami squints at the lettering—too advanced for his fledgling reading comprehension.

"Uh, it's a secret coded message, Bub. For Papa's eyes only."

It says _Kacchan is a dumbass—_his way of apologizing without actually apologizing. Hisami pouts.

"But we're supposed to practice reading!"

"We will! Later, I promise. Now, hold that and smile, okay?" Katsuki positions his phone, ready to snap a picture once Hisami stops pouting.

—

Izuku breathes slowly, hands pressed into the corners of his orange yoga mat as he folds into downward dog. He feels the pull in his hamstrings as he settles into the pose, and the soothing voice on the yoga app on his phone tells him to hold the pose for ten seconds. About halfway through, his phone pings with a text notification. He ignores it, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. It's probably another text from Kacchan. He knows what he's doing. He knows that Izuku is still mad, so he's doing his best to annoy him with silly questions, trying to needle him into speaking to him again. For someone so familiar with his own anger—his own need to be left alone to process and calm down—he's pretty oblivious to that need in other people. Izuku lets out a harsh breath, no longer feeling calm. The feeling intensifies when he gets another notification.

He drops his pose, sitting on the mat to grab his phone. He's annoyed, but he's not dumb enough to ignore two texts. What if it's an emergency? He swipes the notification, and finds that it's not an emergency. It's a picture.

Hisami beams at the camera, holding a piece of paper ripped from his notebook. Izuku squints at the handwriting—it's obviously not Hisami's.

"Kacchan is a dumbass, huh?" Izuku can't help the small smile quirking his lips, the short laugh that escapes him. Below the photo is a dropped pin. _Kacchan has shared their location indefinitely._

Izuku thumbs a reply.

**Izuku: **_When I told you we needed to start him on reading and writing this isn't what I had in mind._

**Kacchan: **_Hah! I told him it was a coded message._

**Izuku: **_Looks more like a coded apology. Thanks Kacchan._

**Kacchan: **_Still mad?_

Izuku considers it. He's not mad, so much as mildly annoyed—vaguely hurt. Really, he has no right to complain about violations of privacy to Kacchan after what he did. He just doesn't understand _why._ He wonders if it really was just about Hisami's safety, some parental instinct that mixed with his heroic principles in an odd way. Izuku briefly imagines Kacchan in all his hero regalia blasting off at the drop of a hat if Hisami called him. The thought, along with the apology that isn't quite an apology, tempers his leftover annoyance. He texts back.

**Izuku: **_You can stay for dinner when you drop Hisami off tomorrow._

**Kacchan: **_Thanks nerd._

Izuku locks his phone and lays back on his mat. He sighs, and wonders why he can't stop smiling. Why Kacchan has such an effect on him by doing so little. Well, he knows why, but he'd like to know why he can't put these useless feelings away.

—

"Hi, Papa! I missed you," Hisami says sweetly, attaching himself to Izuku's leg, hugging him tightly. He's getting so big, and the realization sends him reeling for a moment. He runs his fingers through his curls.

"I missed you too, Button. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah! Papa and I practiced reading, and Cheeto knocked over a vase, and Papa got all red and angry. It was so funny."

Izuku chuckles, delighted. He kneels down to fully hug his son and press a kiss to his forehead. As usual, it's about all the cuddling he can take, so he wiggles away and announces that he has to say hello to all his plushies before excusing himself to his room. Kacchan stands by the door, his shoes still on, looking almost sheepish, but annoyed by it.

"You can come in, Kacchan. I won't throw anything at you." He smiles tentatively, already falling back into the familiar game of working to placate, if not please, Kacchan.

"Right. Here," he grumbles, proffering a crumpled paper pag in his direction before toeing off his shoes in the genkan. Izuku takes the bag, curious.

"Gift giving? That's not like you."

"Yeah, well neither is being a sneak and a liar, so just take it. Don't be difficult."

Izuku peeks in the bag, and finds a large bottle of red wine. An expensive one, at that. Izuku whistles at it.

"Pretty fancy. This stuff isn't cheap."

"Lemillion gave it to me when I made the top five. Obviously, I don't give a shit about wine, or celebrating fifth place, so I figured you could take it off my hands."

"_What!"_ Izuku all but screeches, clenching the bottle with fervor. Kacchan seems put off by the outburst.

"Lemillion—"

"No, I heard you! This is like… basically merch! I can't drink this. Oh, my god. I need to put it in a museum, or something." He abandons Kacchan to place the bottle of wine on a high shelf, where it will remain for the rest of his days. A collectors item.

"You're so weird. Stupid Deku," Kacchan mutters, sounding almost fond. Izuku ignores the fluttering in his stomach.

"Yeah, yeah. Stupid Deku. I'm a nerd and a loser and I'm totally hopeless." Izuku shrugs. He's heard it all before. It hardly stings anymore. Izuku may be all those things, but he's also accomplished, independently wealthy, and a kickass parent.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay. What's for dinner?"

"Whatever I can find in your meager pantry." Kacchan smirks, and Izuku feels it in his gut—a distinct clench in his lower abdomen that he refuses to think on too much.

"Can I help?"

"Yep. By getting the fuck out. Can't have you burning my dinner. Go kiss all the plushies or whatever it is you two do when I'm not here." Kacchan dismisses him with another smirk before turning to rifle through the kitchen with practiced familiarity. Izuku wanders off to help Hisami greet his action figures.

—

Dinner goes by just as it always does. Hisami in high spirits because they're all together, and seeing him happy makes Izuku happy. It makes talking to Kacchan easier. Hisami is the best buffer to have between them—he keeps them on their best behavior. It all comes crashing down at bedtime.

"Alright, Button. Say goodnight."

"Can Papa sleep over? And we can have pancakes in the morning."

"No, he's got to go home. He has work tomorrow."

"He can go to work from here! I want him to stay." Hisami's voice goes up an octave, and Izuku knows he's about to start screaming, crying, or both. "Papa, don't you want to stay with me?"

Hisami's watery eyes lock on Kacchan. The inevitable tantrum is fast approaching, and Izuku can only hope Kacchan has the wherewithal to defuse it. The stricken look on Kacchan's face doesn't give him any comfort.

"Of course, I love staying with you, but Deku missed you… and it's your turn to spend a few days with him." Kacchan's voice is weak, tentative, and completely unlike him. What's worse, is he gave Hisami ammunition to work with.

_God fucking damn it._ He can't really blame Kacchan for it. Izuku's not even sure what he'd say if Hisami put him on the spot like that. Hisami winds himself up, tears falling, face reddening, and the screaming is sure to follow.

"You always leave, and it's no fair! Families are supposed to stay together!" There it is. The beginning of a full-blown, fully realized tantrum. Izuku tries to remain calm.

"Hisami, please." He's begging, but it's still firm. He tries to shoot Kacchan a look that says _go home before it gets worse,_ but he only has eyes for Hisami. He kneels to get to his level, so he doesn't feel like he's looming over him. Hisami shoves him, upending his balance before he can settle himself. The shoving isn't out of the ordinary, but it doesn't usually end with Izuku falling on his ass.

_Stay calm._

"No! I hate this! I hate you!"

He wonders, briefly, when Kacchan is going to step in and _do_ something other than stand there gaping like a fish.

"I'm sorry you're upset, Button. Some families are like this. It doesn't mean we love you any less. Right, Kacchan?" He gives Kacchan a meaningful look, but before he can say anything Hisami explodes.

"Shut up! Stupid _Deku!_ Deku Papa, you don't know anything. I hate you!"

Izuku's mouth falls open in complete shock. He feels like he's been sucker punched—sucker punched by his own kid. At least the outburst seems to rouse Kacchan.

"Deku," Kacchan says, wary of everything that's happening.

"He's just throwing a fit. It'll pass, Kacchan. Say goodnight."

"It won't! I'm right and you're wrong and I want both Papas all the time," Hisami wails, tiny hands fisting in his curls. His face is so red and wet from crying it's a wonder he can still speak. This happens sometimes, and it always manages to break Izuku's heart. He's practiced in the art of hiding it, though, so he remains firm.

"We can't always get what we want. I'm sorry, Hisami."

"Deku, I'll stay. Just let me stay," Kacchan says in a rush. Izuku is promptly pissed. He's not used to this—to be the harsh, uncompromising father to Kacchan's weak-willed one. The betrayal smarts.

Hisami starts to calm the second the words leave his mouth, and Kacchan doesn't even know he's been played. Hisami goes straight to him, burying his wet, splotchy face in his pant leg until he's cried himself out, muttering _thank you_ and _I love you, Papa._ Kacchan runs his fingers through Hisami's hair. When he looks at Izuku, still flat on his ass on the floor, he at least has the decency to look guilty.

"Come on, Bub. Bedtime." He picks Hisami up and carries him off to the bedroom.

Izuku goes to follow them, but Hisami won't even let him in the room, he's so pissed at him, so Kacchan puts him to bed on his own. Izuku spends the whole time pacing through the apartment, working himself into his own little rage, stupid, little tears threatening to spill over.

—

"Bubba, that wasn't nice. You can't treat De—" He falters, catching on the name just in time. "You can't treat Papa like that."

"He was being mean. He wouldn't let you stay." He sniffles, rubbing his wet face. At least the world's worst tantrum has left Hisami exhausted.

"He wasn't being mean, and you shouldn't call him Deku. Or stupid."

"But you say it all the time."

Katsuki sighs because he can't exactly defend himself. What's he supposed to say? _Yeah, I call him Deku because I used to bully him, and I never really kicked the habit._

"It's, uh, different when I say it."

"How?"

Katsuki's never regretting having such a smart, curious son in his life. He fights the urge to drag his hands down his face in frustration. He plays the _I'm old and you're young _card—a move his dad used to use that drove him up a wall. He feels like a traitor using it on his own kid, but he also feels like he probably owes his old man an apology. Raising a kid is no fucking joke.

"It's a grown up thing. Will you apologize to him in the morning?"

"I don't wanna." He pouts.

"You hurt his feelings, Bubba. You made Papa sad."

"I didn't mean to. I was just angry."

The admission is little more than a shrug-off, and all of a sudden Katsuki sees more of himself in his son than ever before. He remembers saying the same thing to himself every time he went too far with the things he said to Deku, or whenever he destroyed something with his Quirk in a fit of blinding rage. He never really had to answer to anyone for his actions, he paid the price by growing into a prideful shithead. His kid wasn't going to be like him.

"I know. So, let's apologize and make it better, yeah? That's what you do when you hurt the people you love." The words are bitter on his tongue. He feels like a hypocrite. The dawning realization that he's a bad influence on Hisami burns in his gut.

"I don't want Papa to hurt. I'll say sorry."

"Good boy." He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He kisses Hisami's cheek, and heads for the door. "Goodnight, Bubba. Love you."

"Will you?" Hisami asks, sleepy eyes drooping. Katsuki's hand on the door falters.

"Hmm?"

"Will you say _sorry_ to Papa, too?"

"Yeah, Bub. Of course." Katsuki doesn't know if it's a lie, or not. He slips out of the room with a heavy heart. This conversation was probably one of the hardest things he's ever done, and for the life of him all he wants to do is go to bed, but of course, Deku has other plans.

"You don't just give in when he acts like that!" Deku hisses the second he's within earshot, bed linens in hand for the couch. The fact that he's whispering does nothing to temper the venom in his tone.

"He was upset! I've never seen him like that, and it was _my_ fault. What was I supposed to do?"

"You're setting a precedent we're not willing to commit to. Do you want to sleep on my couch for the rest of your life? You want to move in and be a couple? _That's _what he thinks he's getting when you cave like that." He's never seen Deku so angry, eyes wild, despite the tears.

"No, but—"

"But nothing! Tonight, it's staying the night. What'll it be next time?"

"He was crying. I've never—"

"Of course, he cries! He's got my tear ducts and your temper, idiot. Do you even realize you got played? God, your mom was right. He's Parent Trapping us."

"Calm down," he growls, his own fuse starting to catch in the wake of Deku's anger. He's too tired to deal with this—to deal with being in the wrong.

"You realize you made me the bad guy back there, right?" Deku's shiny eyes spill over. "You're supposed to have my back, and you caved at some crocodile tears."

"I... I've never dealt with that. I didn't know what to do."

"He wouldn't even let me in the room," Deku says, more to himself than to Katsuki. "H-he called me Deku."

Deku's voice wobbles dangerously and Katsuki's stomach twists with guilt. This is different from the snowball argument. This is the kind of anger that melts easily, only leaving misery. What must it be like to be called useless by your young son because he wants to be more like his shitty father?

"I didn't think about what staying the night might mean to him," Katsuki whispers, all the fight gone out of him. He really fucked up. He can tell Deku's trying not to blubber. All his fight seems to be gone, too.

"Just…" He sighs, and it's a heavy, broken thing. "Just don't do that again. I'm not used to Hisami having someone else to fall back on. This is going to sound selfish, but _I'm _always the favorite, the one he comes back to. He's never had a choice before."

_And he chose me, _Katsuki thinks, just a little angry under all the guilt. If they keep fighting each other to be Hisami's #1 Dad they'll never get anywhere. He has to take a second to really hear what Deku is saying, and work his way through it. He has to remind himself that Deku's issue isn't with Hisami loving Katsuki, it's with relinquishing responsibility and control he's only carried himself until very recently. It's a multifaceted jealousy that he's sure even Deku doesn't quite know how to describe, but Katsuki knows exactly what he means. He thought he was the only one that felt that way, like there's no room for him between Hisami and Deku.

Katsuki sighs, staring at Deku's misty, pathetic expression. Before he can think too hard about it, he grabs Deku's wrist and pulls him into a crushing, awkward hug.

"He still loves you, idiot. We're allowed to both be his favorites. I fucked up back there, and it won't happen again. I'm still learning," he mumbles, knowing Deku is close enough to hear him. "And… I won't call you Deku anymore."

Deku doesn't respond to him, but he can feel his shaky breaths, his trembling shoulders, his hands fisting the fabric of Katsuki's shirt while he pulls himself together.

"I don't suppose you'll offer me the bed again," he says, doing his damndest to lighten up the mood when it seems like Deku's got his shit together.

"No way, asshole. You're exiled to the couch."

If they weren't so preoccupied by their reluctant embrace—their awkward heart to heart—they might've noticed their son, peering sneakily around a corner, watching and smiling like he got exactly what he wanted.


	29. Chapter 29

Hisami is always good about not waking Izuku up when he slips into his bed—mostly because Hisami has learned that if he woke him up, there was a 75% that he'd be sent back to his own bed. Getting him to sleep in his room was a bloody, tear-stained battle, hard fought and sorely won, and no matter how much Izuku wanted to coddle his son, he tried his best not to go back on the rules he'd set. Izuku learned early on that kids needed structure—especially strong-willed, intelligent kids like Hisami. If Izuku gives an inch, Hisami renegotiates for a mile, and then some, and most of the time Izuku barely realizes it when it happens.

Tonight, though, when Hisami quietly slips under the sheets and pastes himself to Izuku's side, sending him back is the furthest thing from his mind. Izuku shifts to better receive him, putting an arm under Hisami's head and cradling him. Hisami responds by throwing a leg and an arm clear across Izuku's torso, like a clingy koala on a eucalyptus tree.

"Papa," Hisami whispers, barely there in the dark. Izuku is only awake enough to give a _hmm_ in answer.

"I'm sorry I made you sad. I love you, and I don't want you to hurt." He sounds on the verge of hysterics, and Izuku's heart clenches. He can only imagine the conversation Kacchan must've had to bring him to say this much in the middle of the night.

"I know, Button. Thank you for apologizing. Everything is okay, so go to sleep, alright? I love you, too."

No one needs to be told twice, and they easily succumb to sleep.

—

Katsuki wakes with a stiff back, and a nasty kink in his neck, roughly twenty minutes before his alarm. Deku clearly lied to him when he said the couch was comfortable that first time he slept over, and the knowledge of that made him even more grateful that he gave him the bed. It's barely six in the morning, and Hisami usually wakes up around now, but he has a feeling last night's epic meltdown took its toll. His patrol shift starts at nine, so he does his best to shake off the dregs of a terrible night's sleep, and gets to work on something of an apology breakfast.

Hisami requested pancakes, and Katsuki learned early on that he's incapable of denying Hisami the things he asks for. Keeping the peace is of the utmost importance, along with making sure Hisami understands _why_ he's leaving today, and he's not going to be staying the night for the foreseeable future. When Katsuki slips into Hisami's room and finds him missing, the momentary parental panic hits hard—and then he remembers Hisami has a habit of sneaking into Deku's bed. Quietly, he goes into Deku's room, feeling oddly guilty about not announcing his presence.

They're tangled up in each other, both dead to the world and soft with sleep. Hisami's mouth is wide open, and his curly mop of hair resembles a bird's nest. Helooks more like Deku when he's asleep—no pinched eyebrows or pouting scowl to be seen. Deku's always had a baby face, but he's never seen him look more like the Deku he remembers from his childhood than when he's passed out. He thinks it's odd that for as long as Deku has presumably been single, that he still sleeps on one side of his enormous bed. Katsuki allows himself a moment—albeit something of a creepy, voyeuristic moment—to take it all in, to take in the state of his life.

Part of him feels like that empty space on the other side is meant for him, but he doesn't know why he feels that way. It must be biological—logic doesn't always factor in. In a biological sense, he only sees his kid, and the mate that brought Hisami into the world. Logically, he knows that's insane, but it doesn't stop him from indulging in the idea of just calling into work and telling them to fuck off for today, so he can bury himself in Deku's sheets on the other side of the bed. The ache he feels is unfamiliar—like he's on the outside of something great, but only able look in, but never allowed to touch.

If last night taught him anything, it's that he has a long way to go before he can consider himself a good parent, or an ally to Deku. Last night, he let Deku down, and the realization smarts. Katsuki has a big fucking problem with letting anyone down because it's explicit _failure, _and he'd rather die than be a failure for an extended amount of time.

He needs to start seeing Deku as more than someone he's stuck with. He needs to see him as an equal because now he knows just how much Hisami pays attention to their conversations, their tone of voice, their carefully concealed jabs at one another. Katsuki needs to be better. He needs to figure out what he wants. He needs to come to terms with all the things Deku makes him feel. He needs to figure out if he wants all his dreams to be reality—if he wants to be a family in the typical sense of the word. For now, though, he needs to let Deku know breakfast is ready.

He buries the desire to dive bomb onto the bed to wake them up, afraid of landing on Deku and opening the can of worms labeled _proximity._ Instead, he shuffles quietly to Deku's side of the bed, and taps lightly on his shoulder. No response. He very nearly groans. Deku's always slept like the dead, and nothing short of a flick to the nose or a slap on the cheek could ever rouse him.

"De—uh, Midoriya?" He pokes his cheek, feeling so _wrong _for calling him by his surname. It's far too unfamiliar for all the shit they've put each other through. His skin is soft and pink and freckled under his calloused fingertip, and all Katsuki can think is _too close._ They'd hugged last night, and Katsuki firmly believes his tossing and turning through the night has about as much to do with that as does the awful couch. Katsuki isn't one for physical contact, much less contact that can be construed as affectionate.

Deku is still dead to the world, and if not for the apparent rise and fall of his chest, Katsuki might have checked for a pulse. He ups the ante by lightly slapping his cheek, an old childhood staple that reeks of nostalgic familiarity.

"_Oi,"_ he gripes, intent on not tripping over Deku's name again. Deku's eyes pop open comically wide as he joins the land of the living once more. Katsuki realizes his palm is still resting lightly on Deku's cheek, and with a frustrated jolt he removes it and stands up straight.

"Kacchan? Everything okay?"

"I've got to get going soon. I made pancakes, though. Figured we could avoid another meltdown with a hearty breakfast," Katsuki whispers, eyes shifting subtly to the sleeping boy barnacled to Deku's side.

"Right. Okay, yeah. Give me a few minutes to restart my heart. Do you know how scary it is to wake up with an angry blond looming over you?" The little shit smirks and gives a breathless sort of laugh.

"Can't say I do. Hurry up." Katsuki steps back to give him some room to get up and start his day, or whatever. He's feeling antsy, and not quite thinking straight.

"Um, I don't have pants on. Could you…?" Deku trails off, face going blotchy with a blush. Katsuki's face feels similarly warm.

"Oh, fucking hell. I'll be in the kitchen." Katsuki's never felt so fucking flustered, and for the life of him he can't put his finger on _why._

Minutes later, a fully-clothed Deku pads into the kitchen with a sleep-addled Hisami rubbing his eyes and clutching onto Deku's pant leg to guide him. The scene is so fucking cute it makes Katsuki borderline homicidal with fuzzy feelings he refuses to name.

"Morning, Bub. You sleepwalk to Papa's bed last night?"

Hisami only grumbles irritably. He must've had a rough night's sleep, as well. He maneuvers himself into a seat at the table, eyes still half-shut. Katsuki almost feels bad for him, and then he remembers his stunning impression of a failing nuclear reactor, and his pity is slightly tempered. Still, Katsuki smiles when his son slightly perks up when a plate of syrupy pancakes is shoved under his nose. Katsuki turns to make his own plate, and finds Deku next to him, staring at him with a questioning look in his eye.

"What?"

"Was I dreaming, or did you call me Midoriya earlier?"

Katsuki blushes again, and he'd really like to know when exactly he gave his body permission to do that so often. He looks pointedly over at Hisami, who's half asleep in his pancakes, but making a valiant effort to eat, all the same. Katsuki lowers his voice, so only Deku will hear.

"I said I wouldn't call you _Deku_ anymore." The name feels like rancid bile in his mouth, and the guilt of passing that awful nickname down to his son without knowing it makes him nauseous. Deku's eyes do this vulnerable softening and moistening thing before he smiles.

"I don't think you've ever called me Midoriya. It's a bit odd after… everything, isn't it?"

"It's the best I could come up with at six in the morning," Katsuki says, deflecting because he's not exactly ready for another awkward, deep conversation. He's got villain ass to kick today, and he needs to get going, so he makes some lame excuse about needing to run home before he heads to the agency and leaves about an hour before he actually needs to. He presses a swift kiss to Hisami's forehead, and all but blasts himself out of the apartment without a glance at Deku.

—

Katsuki shrugs out of his gauntlets in the locker room, back stiff and sore. Katsuki doesn't think he's had a worse day on the job yet. He was already off to a bad start with the sore back and the kink in his neck, and it was only exacerbated by a shitty villain getting the drop on him—a career first—and punching him so hard he put a dent in the side of a semi-truck.

He was just… distracted. And tired. And feeling extremely fucking inadequate. He realized, about halfway to the agency, that he hadn't apologized to Deku for last night. He ran through the entire conversation with him, went over every word with a fine toothed comb, and not a single word sounded like _sorry._ He's been beating himself up over it ever since. He told Hisami he would apologize, and Katsuki has already failed to lead by example.

"Bro! You losing your touch? I've never seen someone get a hit on you like that!" Kirishima wails—perpetually sunny—from three lockers down. Sometimes, it seems like they never left high school.

"Fuck off, Shitty Hair. Why the hell are you here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be on leave?"

"Just working out for a few hours. Mina kicks me out when I start to annoy her." His smile is huge, for some reason. He supposed it has something to do with the new bundle of joy, born just a few days after Christmas.

"Sounds like motherhood is rough," he says, totally out of his depth, but more than willing to distract himself from his own baby drama.

"She's taking it like a champ! She's beautiful, our daughter is beautiful, and I will erect statues in their honor," he says loftily. Before he can go on waxing poetic about his perfect life and family, Katsuki cuts him off.

"But she kicks you out of the house when you annoy her."

"True. She's just tired. I am, too, but she gets time to herself, too. I try to be the one who stays up at night with Akane. We have a system."

The last thing Katsuki wants to hear about is familial domesticity and all its inner workings. Something ugly rises from his gut and burns his throat—jealousy in its purest form, and he doesn't want to think about why because he's already spiraling. He realizes that his eyes are burning, and he knows it's time to go the fuck home before he lets this shitty day get the best of him. He buries his head in his locker in an attempt to pull himself together, so he can cut and run.

"Bakugo, are you alright?" Suddenly, Kirishima is at his side, a meaty hand on his shoulder, and sympathy in his eyes. Fuck.

"M'fine."

"Everything okay with Deku?"

"Don't call him that," he snaps, his tenuous control on his temper completely shot. Hearing that name from anyone other than himself only makes him feel like more of a piece of shit.

"What happened?"

Katsuki shakes his head. No longer in danger of crying at work, but the thought of talking about it here makes him want to shrivel up and die on the spot.

"Not here, man."

Kirishima checks his phone, as if that's where he keeps his _Make Katsuki Open Up_ guidebook is located. Or maybe he's just checking the time.

"I've got about an hour before I have to head home. Wanna grab a beer?"

"Or six."

—

Turns out, it only took three beers to get Katsuki to spit it the fuck out.

"I'm a shitty dad, as well as a shitty person," he blurts out, after a sip of beer number four. Kirishima literally chokes on his beer, eyes widening as he coughs. He pats excess droplets of beer off his face and neck with a shitty bar napkin.

"Explain," he says slowly, eyeing Katsuki like he'd grown a second head—or maybe like he just said something that fundamentally contradicts his entire personality.

"Hisami threw a fucking fit last night, and I'm not going to go into why, so don't ask. It was like watching myself as a shitty, little kid—just fucking raging. And, like father like son, taking it all out on De—Midoriya. God, that sounds so fucking weird to say. _Midoriya. _I've never said that name in my entire, miserable life, but now I can't say what I call him because my kid is picking up all my worst habits." And apparently, he's picking up Deku's because he's pretty sure he's never said so many words in one go outside of mission debriefs. The almost crying earlier seems a dead ringer for something Deku would do too.

_What the fuck is happening to me?_

"Wow, that's… a lot."

"No shit, Shitty Hair."

"You're not a bad person, or a bad dad. I've seen you with Hisami. You'd do anything for that kid."

"That doesn't mean I'm a good influence. He called him _stupid Deku. _You should've seen his face. Looked like he drop-kicked his goddamn heart."

There's that burning sensation again. His eyes are on fire. Fuck. He tips his head back, thankful for the excuse the beer provides, but honestly, he's willing the moisture back behind his eyes. He stays like that until he hears Kirishima blow out a heavy sigh.

"What do you feel worse about—seeing your son do that, or being reminded that you used to do it?"

Katsuki draws back in his chair like he's been slapped. _The truth hurts_ isn't just a platitude, and Katsuki's been found the fuck out. Katsuki imagines the sky clearing after a storm, finally seeing the sun. How is it so easy for Kirishima to point that out, when Katsuki is the one living the situation, stumbling around and choking on his feelings?

"For someone so dumb, you're pretty smart, sometimes," he admits, albeit grudgingly.

"Emotional intelligence, bro. It's a beautiful thing. And I know you. You only get like this when you think too much about your past."

"I don't. I'm never _like this,"_ he says, indignant, putting air quotes around Kirishima's shitty accusations.

"Your eyes are all misty."

"Allergies." He sniffs pointedly.

"Allergic to feelings, maybe," Kirishima mutters around the lip of his beer before draining it. Katsuki punches his shoulder, and then regrets it because this is the exact kind of thing he shouldn't be doing. Fuck.

"Dude, just talk to Midoriya. I'm sure this isn't the big deal you're making it out to be."

"You don't get it."

"I think _you_ don't get it. You need to let this thing go, or you need to get to a place where you can at least talk to your baby daddy about it."

"Don't call him that," Katsuki says, but he's not all that upset by it. There are worse things to refer to Deku as.

"Talk to him. Maybe apologize. An apology can go a long way, and you suck at apologizing."

"Fuck."

"Maybe do that, too. You're too pent up."

"I'm _not _hooking up with fucking Deku."

Kirishima gives him a scandalized look, clutching his proverbial pearls—and then he giggles like a goddamn schoolgirl. Katsuki damn near chips a molar, he clenches his jaw so hard.

"I didn't say that. Are you—?"

Suddenly, every perverted dream he's ever had about Deku flashes through his mind like a goddamn porn compilation, and he's promptly red in the face.

"_No!_ Shut up. Don't you have a damn baby to get home to? Christ."

"As a matter of fact, I do. Call me if you go back into crisis mode." Kirishima pats him on the back—a little too roughly for the hit he'd taken earlier in the day—and heads out. Katsuki stews for a bit, finishing his beer before he vacated the bar.

_Crisis mode, huh?_ As if he had a chance of leaving it long enough to get back in it.

Katsuki heads home in some kind of fugue state, thinking a million things and nothing at all.


	30. Chapter 30

They decide that splitting Hisami's time 50-50 isn't working—at least not for Hisami. They make an effort to do things _together, _as a _family._ It's a freaky thing to say aloud but the act of going grocery shopping together, or spending time in each other's apartments again isn't weird at all. It feels normal and easy and Hisami hasn't pushed for more sleepovers. Katsuki wakes up every morning half-expecting to see Deku and Hisami waiting for him in his living room, like the life he lives in his dreams is starting to bleed into real life.

That isn't to say things aren't awkward with Deku. He's been trying to pluck up the courage to apologize, but it isn't something he wants to do in front of Hisami. Katsuki has so much more to apologize for than one bad night, and putting it off any longer is starting to eat away at him. What's worse is Deku acts like nothing ever happened, and Katsuki wonders what's going on behind the scenes. Deku tries so hard not to let anyone see him sweat—it's something they have in common—but Deku was never this good at it when they were kids.

He doesn't realize how intently he's staring at him until they lock eyes. Deku seems startled.

"Everything okay? You look a little… tense."

"I'm surprised you can tell. What with the get up I'm wearing."

His publicist has managed to keep Hisami out of the press, and Katsuki is keen on keeping it that way. Whenever they're out in public, he dons large sunglasses and a nondescript baseball cap, the brim low over his eyes. He doesn't know how well it works—his fans usually know better than to crowd him when he's out—but he hasn't seen any large flashing cameras around.

"Are you nervous about someone seeing us? I'll admit, I am, too."

Katsuki hums noncommittally. He _is_ worried about that, but that wasn't really on his mind at the moment. There aren't many people out, anyway. It's warming up sooner than expected, but there's still a good blanket of snow on the ground. Hisami is rolling around in the snow again. His coat is so puffy he looks like a giant blueberry, and Katsuki wonders if he'll be able to get back up on his feet on his own. There are other kids doing similar activities, but Hisami is content on his own. _That_ worries Katsuki. How many times had Katsuki chosen to be on his own when he was that age, preferring not to associate with _extras?_ He decides not to bring it up.

"We should get going. Don't want to be late for lunch."

"Right," Deku says, and for the first time in days, he shows how nervous he is. He blows out a sigh, breath fogging in the cold air.

"It's just my dad, Midoriya. There's nothing to be worried about." Katsuki almost puts a hand on his shoulder, as if to be reassuring. He comes to his senses in the nick of time, and shoves his traitorous hands in his pockets. Unnecessary touching isn't part of Katsuki's MO, and he doesn't plan on changing that anytime soon. His new penchant for touching Deku is almost as off-putting as referring to him as Midoriya.

"I know, it's just… I don't know."

"Spit it out, nerd. I'm listening," he says, and it's almost _soft._ More unnecessary reassurance. Deku looks at him with wide eyes and parted, incredulous lips, like the idea that Katsuki is willing to listen to him is so shocking he can't be bothered to play it cool. Guilt festers again because something so simple shouldn't pull such a response from Deku.

"It's just hard, I guess. Facing up to my mistakes. Just because your dad is nicer about it doesn't mean he doesn't hate me for what I did to all of you."

Katsuki grimaces and shoves his face into his scarf. _Facing up to his mistakes,_ he thinks, rolling the words around in his head. As far as he's concerned, Deku's owned up to his mistakes, and repented more than a few times over. Katsuki's the only one here who hasn't.

"No one hates you. It's just a shock, and everyone is going to get over it in time," Katsuki says, feeling unusually protective of—and mainly responsible for—Deku's feelings. Deku is careful to keep his eyes on Hisami, like he can't bear looking at Katsuki right now. It makes it easier to speak. "I mean, look at what we have. Hisami is everything to me. And do you know how long my mom's been bitching at me to give her a grandkid? Everything is going to be fine."

"Thanks, Kacchan." Deku gives him a sad smile before he pulls himself together. "I think Hisami is stuck on the ground. I'll go get him. We shouldn't make your dad wait."

Katsuki looks in Hisami's direction to find him face down and flailing in the snow. He's not crying yet, but he imagines he's only about a minute away from yelling for help. Katsuki laughs harder than he should at the sight of Deku picking up their little blueberry and setting him upright. Deku seems to be laughing, too. Hopefully, they'll all still be smiling after lunch.

—

"Ojiisan! I almost died in the snow!" Hisami yells from clear across the restaurant, dramatic as ever. He whips off his giant, down jacket and thrusts it at Kacchan with all the force his little body can muster. As soon as the coat is secure, he takes off to the table Masaru has claimed. Izuku is slower to head over there. He almost completely stops, nerves getting the best of him, when Kacchan puts a large hand on the small of his back. To say that he squealed at the touch is the understatement of the century. The hand disappears in an instant, and Izuku finds himself regretting his outburst. Kacchan looks mortified, his cheeks a flustered red. Izuku immediately feels guilty.

"Sorry," he mumbles. Kacchan stuffs his hands in his pockets and clears his throat.

"S'fine. Everything is going to be fine. Chill out, alright?"

"Right." Izuku takes a deep breath, and forges on—without Kacchan's hand on his back, unfortunately.

"Hey, old man. And, for the record, he didn't almost die. Midoriya and I are better parents than that," Kacchan says, throwing himself into a chair across from Hisami, who's taken the seat next to Masaru. Izuku can only muster a nervous smile and a slight bow of his head in Masaru's direction before he sits next to Kacchan.

Masaru chokes on his water when Kacchan's words sink in.

"Midoriya?" He coughs, forcing the word out like he's never heard of it before.

"That's his name," Kacchan says easily, crossing his arms. His posture screams _I dare you to ask about it._ Masaru is either oblivious (unlikely) or he's too nosy for his own good (stupid, but more likely).

"What happened to D—?"

"_Language!"_ Hisami shouts, his tiny hand slapping the table top for emphasis. "We don't say that word because it's mean and it makes Papa cry. Shame on you, Ojiisan."

Izuku puts his head in his hands. They've literally been at the table for a minute, and this lunch is already in shambles. The embarrassment is almost worse than the nerves he was previously courting like he was going to marry it someday. As always, Masaru takes this information in stride.

"Oh. My apologies."

That's it. That's all he says before steering the conversation to something mundane. The weather, of all things, is the topic of conversation until a waitress comes by to take their orders. From there, the topic is anything Hisami feels the need to talk about. After an hour spent talking about the contents of his notebooks, the Quirk he thinks he's going to get for his birthday, and the quality of his newest Frostfire action figure, he decides he's ready to leave, but not without a potty break.

"I'll take him," Kacchan says, already half-way to standing. Hisami crawls off his own chair and holds Kacchan's hand while they head for the bathroom. Which means, he's alone with Masaru.

"So, no more Deku, huh? Must be nice to finally leave that name behind," Masaru says, the picture of calm. Izuku, on the other hand, is sweating like he's in the middle of a July heatwave.

"Ah, I guess. It's a bit weird, actually."

"What happened?"

"Um, Hisami picked up on the fact that it isn't the nicest name." Izuku is fidgeting like there's no tomorrow, but Masaru looks unbothered, his smile unwavering. He feels like he's in a police interrogation.

"Did Katsuki apologize?"

Izuku has to think for a moment, playing back the last few days in his mind. He thinks back to that night—the night Kacchan _hugged_ him—and finds that there was never a direct apology. That doesn't bother him so much, though.

"You know him. He never says he's sorry, but he shows it." Izuku shrugs.

"Well, I'm not like my son, or my wife. I'm sorry, Izuku. What Mitsuki did was unfair, and uncalled for, and I want you to know that, while I don't _love _what you did, or the fact that I didn't know I had a grandson for so long, I don't harbor any ill will against you."

For the first time since he sat down for lunch, Izuku is able to fully look in Masaru's eyes. He doesn't see any hint of a lie. He's always been a kind, genuine man. Izuku allows himself to smile.

"Oh. I appreciate that. Thank you."

"I don't think I've ever seen Katsuki so happy, and we both know it has everything to do with you and Hisami coming into his life. I'm glad you two are on better terms."

Izuku's smile falters, just a bit. He can't say he agrees with his assessment. Izuku has little to do with Kacchan's happiness. It's all for Hisami, and that's okay. He thinks it's enough that someday, he might be able to call Kacchan a friend again.

"Thank you for lunch, Bakugo-san."

"Just call me Masaru. There's no need to be that formal. We're family, now, after all."

He smiles again, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. Izuku remembers wishing he had a dad like Masaru, once upon a time. He'll never have that, but at least Hisami will have him as a grandfather.

Before they can speak anymore, Hisami comes rocketing out of the bathroom, hellbent on getting to Kacchan's house.

"I haven't seen Cheeto in forever!"

They say their goodbyes, and head across town to Katsuki's apartment.

—

Deku doesn't look like he plans on staying for very long, claiming he has some work to do back at his place. Katsuki calls his bluff. If he doesn't get this apology out soon, he's liable to go nuclear. It has to be tonight.

"You should stay. I'm making katsudon for dinner."

"I'm sure you've had enough of me, Kacchan. It's technically your day, and I don't want to intrude on it more than I have already."

"Oi, Bub! You care if Papa stays for dinner?" Katsuki shouldn't be using Hisami against Deku like this, but he's a tad desperate.

Hisami's head pops up in the doorway of his bedroom, an uncomfortable looking Cheeto tucked under his chin.

"Stay, Papa!"

"I guess it's settled then," Katsuki says, smirking in Deku's direction. He's still standing in the genkan. Deku rolls his eyes, and starts to take off his shoes.

"Evil, Kacchan," he says ruefully, a reluctant smiling curling his lips.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll make it worth your while. Here," he starts, moving around the kitchen island to unearth yet another dusty bottle of expensive wine. There's no way he's telling him which hero this one came from. Katsuki plans to get moderately sloshed—he'll need the liquid courage, and Deku is more malleable when he drinks. It's a win-win.

He wastes no time popping the cork and pouring a glass for Deku before pouring himself a glass of whiskey to sip on while he prepares dinner. Deku knows by now to steer clear of the kitchen while he's cooking, so he slips away to color with Hisami.

—

Katsuki will never admit it to anyone, but he likes cooking for Deku—for his family. He finds that spending all this time together is softening him. It's like exposure therapy. The more time they spend together, the easier it becomes—the more he enjoys it.

By now, they're pros at seamlessly getting Hisami to bed. In record time, he falls asleep, Cheeto purring against his back. He won't lie and say it's easy to speak to Deku when Hisami isn't between them to keep them at their best. The air is awkward and silent. Katsuki pours another glass of whiskey, drinking this one just a bit faster. He tops off Deku's wine, and opens the curtain that obscures the door to the balcony.

"You have a balcony?"

"Yeah, come outside with me." Katsuki clicks the deadbolt pointedly, and Deku gives him an incredulous look.

"It's freezing out."

"There are heat lamps, and I really need to talk to you. I'd rather not wake up Hisami."

"Is something wrong?" It's so easy to see how worried Deku is. His big, stupid eyes are too expressive.

"Yes, and no. Just come outside, nerd."

Deku doesn't look reassured at all, but he still dutifully follows Katsuki outside. It reminds him of when they were kids, and he could always count on Deku to be right behind him. It was friendship in its purest form, and Katsuki claimed he didn't want it.

"Are you going to, like, toss me over the edge, or something? You're freaking me out." Deku smiles at him, but it's riddled with nerves. Katsuki takes a big, burning sip from his glass, and just blurts it out.

"I owe you an apology."

"For what?" He asks. He has the audacity to look utterly shocked. It only makes this harder.

"For last week. For other shit, too, obviously, but…" Katsuki looks away, heaves a sigh, fidgets a bit. This is the worst. "He fucking called you _Deku."_

"I know. It shocked me, too. He said you two had a talk about it, though."

Katsuki feels sick thinking of the stricken look on Deku's face after it happened. He's spent the week reflecting on that tingly, prideful feeling he gets when Hisami acts like him. That feeling has somewhat soured for him. Hisami is angry with a side of sweet, cheerful with a heaping helping of sarcasm. He thought he rode the line between those two personality traits well, but Katsuki's ugly, unholy temper is hiding somewhere behind that baby face, and it terrifies him to no end.

"Listen, I don't—I don't want our kid to treat people… to treat _you_ the way I did when I was younger."

"Kacchan, one bad tantrum doesn't make him a bad kid."

Katsuki is immediately _on fire_ with the idea that Deku thinks of their childhood in such terms—that Katsuki was a bad kid. He almost forgets the apology entirely, he's so thrown by what he says. He's speechless for a moment, electing to sip from his glass again.

"And you weren't a bad kid either. Misguided and angry, maybe. But never bad," Deku says, proving, once again, that he's far too forgiving.

"I was a fucking bully. Don't even try to lie and say I wasn't."

"You aren't anymore. You've changed, and that's what matters. Don't think I haven't seen all the anti-bullying campaigns you've been in over the years."

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about everything I did to you—have been for awhile." Katsuki finally chokes out the words, and it burns just as much coming out of his mouth as the whiskey does going down.

"I'm sorry, too."

"Shut up." Katsuki can't help it—he rolls his eyes.

"I mean it. I'm just as much to blame for our bad history. I always pushed you too far when you wanted to be left alone. I always thought _well, at least he's talking to me—looking at me._ It was selfish." Deku looks so damn sad when he says it that Katsuki can't look at him anymore. "I just missed having a friend."

The lump in Katsuki's throat swells to three times it's size. He's choking on remorse. It's an ache he doesn't feel often, but he aches to go back. If he could, he'd rewrite their history. He thinks their lives could've been so much easier, possibly happier, if they just remained friends. He often thinks that he probably would've known about Hisami from the start if Deku wasn't so afraid of him. He hasn't been able to forget the terrified look in his eyes that first day he saw him with Hisami—a look that plainly asked _what is he going to do to me? _And he proved all of Deku's fear to be founded in truth. He likes to think he's been better, more understanding, lately, but those early days of losing his temper—the cutting things he said—hurt him now just as much as they hurt Deku.

"Well, we're friends now. Right?"

"I'd like that, and maybe you should just call me Izuku from now on. I'll call you Katsuki, too, so it's fair. Is that alright?"

Katsuki nods, even though the thought of saying his name makes him feel _off. _Midoriya is too formal, but Izuku is just… too _much._ He's only ever called Deku by his name in his dreams. Even for someone he's known his entire life, using his name is just far too intimate.

"Izuku," he says, testing it out. It feels caustic, but it also makes him feel warm—maybe that's the whisky, though.

"Katsuki," Deku says, seemingly doing the same thing.

"It's fucking weird."

If the way Deku sucks up his wine like a goddamn vacuum cleaner, he agrees. He coughs, and almost _giggles _before he speaks again.

"I know, but maybe this will be good. We've always been Kacchan and Deku, and that's never served us all that well. Now, we can put it in the past… and be ourselves."

"Katsuki and Izuku," Katsuki says. It still feels surreal, but he has to admit it seems to put them on equal footing. No childish nicknames, no past to contend with. A blank slate—a second chance.

He clears his throat, pushing away the welling of emotions and fondness their conversation brought on, and promptly changes the subject.

"Kirishima and Ashido are finally ready to introduce people to the baby. I'm going over there on Saturday. I was going to bring Hisami, so do you want to come?"

"I don't want to intrude. Tell them congratulations for me, though. Boy or girl?"

"Girl. Akane. Unfortunately, she looks exactly like Kirishima." Katsuki smiles. There's nothing better than teasing his best friend, whether he's there to hear it, or not.

"I'm sure she's cute as a button. Red hair?"

Katsuki snorts and shakes his head. He pulls his phone out to show Deku the pictures Ashido sent him. Big, red eyes and little tufts of curly, black hair.

"The idiot dyes his hair. I thought everyone knew that?"

"She's beautiful. I love it when they're that small. Have you ever held something that small?"

The pinch in his chest he gets whenever Deku talks about babies surfaces. It used to make him angry—so angry he couldn't even see straight. He's supremely jealous of Kirishima right now, of his ability to see his child grown from start to finish, to just _be there. _He used to feel so cheated out of the experience, but he's come to terms with the reality of their situation—and the fact that he probably wasn't ready for Hisami when he was born. Not the way Deku was. The thought still has his eyes burning.

"Cheeto was about that big when I found him in a bush on a rainy day. Dumb, ugly thing. I thought he was a rat, at first."

Deku snorts, almost spits his wine back into the long-stemmed glass in his hand.

"You told me he ran into your apartment!"

"He did. After I found him."

"After you swaddled him in your _love."_

"Oi! Shut it, nerd."

Deku laughs easily, and the sound tingles in his spine. He likes Deku like this. Carefree and smiling, bubbly after a glass of red.

"This is going to sound weird, but when you hold that baby, smell her head."

"The fuck? Alright, you're cut off." He goes to grab the empty glass from Deku, but he stops him with a palm flat against Katsuki's chest. It stops him short—feels like Deku stole his Quirk because his chest is burning up under his touch.

"I'm serious, Ka—Katsuki. New baby smell is probably the eighth wonder of the world. You… you should be able to experience it." Deku's eyes drop to his palm, still pressing into him, and his fingers curl, wilting with self-consciousness before his hand falls away completely, even though Katsuki's sure there's still a handprint seared into his skin under his shirt. There's a heavy, awkward silence left in the wake of the contact that neither of them really knows what to do with. So, of course, Deku decides to babble.

"Um, they smell like the color pink, or something. Like the way new and happy _feels._ Just… pink."

Katsuki almost smiles at the jumble of nonsense. Maybe it's the whiskey—it's softened all his edges. Maybe it's just Deku.

"The color pink, huh? I think Ashido will like that. She's pissed she doesn't have horns or funky eyes. Then again she's also barely lucid from the lack of sleep."

"I know they'd never ask me for help, but I'm happy to pass along a few tips if they ever need anything. I'd even offer to help you babysit if they need a night of normalcy."

"I'll let them know. Thanks… Izuku."

They stay out on the balcony for a while, soaking up each other's company. It's quiet, but it's nice. It really does feel like a clean start, and Katsuki refuses to squander Deku's kindness the second time around.


	31. Chapter 31

Hisami kicks his legs in his car seat, bouncing around like he's on a dangerous sugar high. He's hit with a sense of deja vu. It's eerily similar to the last time they made the trek to Kirishima's and Ashido's home. Luckily, this time the person Hisami is excited to meet will actually be there. When Katsuki asked Hisami if he wanted to accompany him to meet the baby, he jumped up on the couch just to theatrically fall down fainting. He's since spent the morning muttering up a storm—the spitting image of a young, blond Deku—about babies and how special they are and how much he loves them. It's endearing as fuck.

"Papa, do you like babies?" Hisami asks from the backseat. Katsuki's eyes drift over to peek at him in the rear view mirror. He's incandescent.

"I don't know. I haven't seen very many babies."

"Not even me?" Hisami's head tilts, confused.

Katsuki can't keep his eyes on him in the mirror—his heart gives an ugly, little lurch. Hisami doesn't seem to know much—or care much, for that matter—about Katsuki's absence in his life. Maybe he hasn't thought about it at all past how much he loves Katsuki being around. Maybe he assumes he was there once. Kids are weird, little things, and Katsuki would never presume to fully know what goes on in Hisami's head. Someday, they'll have to have a conversation about Katsuki's absence in the first three years of his life, but that's a conversation for an older Hisami, and one Deku most certainly needs to be present for. For now, he goes with the only truth he knows.

"You're my favorite person in the whole world, Bub."

Hisami clutches his Ground Zero action figure and giggles with reckless abandon.

"Love you, Papa. Even more than I love babies!"

Katsuki smiles because that's the only thing to do when Hisami is in such a good mood. He babbles on about every little thing that pops into his head until the driveway comes into view.

"Okay, Bub, the baby might be sleeping when we go in, so we have to be quiet. Alright?"

Hisami puts a finger to his lips in response, and they walk hand in hand to the front door.

Kirishima answers the door with a burping towel over his shoulder, and a ratty pair of sweatpants with more than a few stains.

"You look like shit," Katsuki says, in lieu of a greeting, and Hisami pinches his leg for cursing, but remains silent as a mouse.

"These are my parenting pants, bro. Don't be a hater," he says, and even though he looks tired, his wide smile as he welcomes them in is still at its full, sharp brightness. "You've got great timing. She's awake, and not screaming."

"You talking about Ashido, or Akane?" Katsuki smirks. Kirishima rolls his eyes as he leads them to the living room.

The house is definitely more lived in since the last time he was there. To be frank, it's a mess, but Katsuki doesn't know what it's like to be an exhausted parent to a newborn, so he holds his tongue. Hisami remains quiet, but the second he sees Ashido on the couch he's off like a shot.

Hisami hovers around the little bundle in Ashido's arms, wiggling his fingers like he wants to touch, but won't move without permission first. Katsuki looks at the tiny thing—_a human, a baby, oh god—_and he's unnerved by the size of her. Akane looks _fragile,_ and his hands are literal bombs. Babies are terrifying things. Somehow, Hisami seems better equipped for this moment than he is.

"Pink-chan is a mama," Hisami whispers reverently. Ashido smiles fondly at him, and Katsuki has to look away. Instead, he turns to Kirishima.

"Need me to clean up around here?" Katsuki is horrified by how thick his voice is.

"Later. Go see the baby, man."

Katsuki doesn't know how to say he doesn't want to see the baby without offending anyone, so he doesn't say anything. He just clenches his jaw tighter, somehow.

"You're freaking out," Kirishima says, not quite like an accusation, but it's definitely not a question either. Katsuki very nearly flinches.

"Is it because she's so small? Freaked me out at first, too. Like, I never really thought about how… how much _violence_ we use our hands for every day until I held her."

Once again, Kirishima seems able to cut through to the heart of Katsuki's problems like some kind of emotional guru. Katsuki looks at him like he's trying to see through a dirty window, but Kirishima doesn't seem to notice.

"But we also use them for good, right? Like, I never think twice about holding Mina, or picking up a civilian in danger. You hold Hisami all the time. It's no different."

"When the hell did you get smart?"

"When I knocked my girlfriend up," he says with a Cheshire grin. Katsuki snorts.

"I've never held a baby. I don't know… anything about babies."

"So, it's about De—wait, what's his name again?"

"Midoriya," Katsuki mumbles.

"Yeah. This is about him. You never got to do the baby thing, and you're upset about it."

"I'm fine." He's not fine.

"Then get over there and hold my kid," Kirishima says. He's known him long enough to know when he's being baited into a challenge, but Katsuki's never been able to back down.

"Fine," he barks, trying to affect confidence he doesn't feel at the moment. He takes easy strides to the couch, where Hisami has pasted himself as close as he dares to Ashido's side so he can look at Akane's slow blinking eyes.

"Why is she not pink?" He asks. Ashido laughs.

"I don't know, but her horns are coming in. See the little bumps?"

Hisami gasps, utterly enchanted, and even in his state of borderline panic, Katsuki can't help but smile at how damn precious his kid is.

"Horns like Pink-chan?"

"Bet that's gonna be a bitch to deal with," Katsuki mutters, leaning over the back of the couch to look at the little thing that's slowly driving him crazy. Akane stares at him, big red eyes unblinking.

"Language, Papa," Hisami whispers, but he can't muster enough outrage. He's too busy poking Akane's chubby cheek, his finger sliding over soft skin.

"My mom said it's ten times worse than teething," Ashido says, but she sounds unbothered. "Baku, you want to hold her?"

"'Course he does," Kirishima says, picking the worst time to intrude.

"Can I hold her?" Hisami asks, meek, but excited.

"Only if your Papa helps you, okay?"

"Yes, please," Hisami says, staring hopefully at Katsuki. Katsuki glares at Kirishima for using his son against him, and he mentally reminds himself to avoid doing it to Deku ever again.

Hisami sidles up to Katsuki as he gets comfortable on the couch. Once Hisami is sitting between Katsuki's legs, and Ashido informs them both how to hold a baby, and where to put their hands, Kirishima moves Akane into Hisami's arms, and Katsuki provides extra support. Akane coos and Hisami babbles back at her like they're speaking in a secret language.

"It's like a cuddle sandwich," Hisami giggles, and Katsuki's laughs too. He feels like a matryoshka doll—the largest vessel holding smaller, more precious things the further in he goes. Katsuki remembers what Deku said, about how newborns smell, and he subtly leans in to catch onto it. Deku was right, but that hardly surprises Katsuki anymore.

It solidifies some things for him. He realizes he _does _want this—every second of it. He feels guilty for even thinking it because Hisami is really the only kid he wants to care about, and he doesn't want to be a single parent the way Deku was. Katsuki knew if he held Akane, he'd figure all these things out. That's why he didn't want to do it in the first place. Now that he has, all he wants is to bury this feeling. Instead, he plants a kiss on the top of Hisami's head.

"She's so pretty, Papa," Hisami says, turning to smile at Katsuki. Katsuki can only nod because the lump in his throat is choking him.

—

Izuku decided to ditch the treadmill and go for a run in the park. The last of the snow has melted off into a pile of dirty slush, and the sun is bright enough to allow for some subtle warmth. He loves spring, and he can't wait for the last dregs of winter to fully abate. Just as his run is starting to get good, just as he's starting to fall into a rhythm, a text alert pings in his headphones, throwing off the beat of his music. He tries to ignore it, but the reminder alert pings again about two minutes later, and his curiosity gets the better of him.

He brings his run to a light jog, just to get his heart rate right before slowing to a walk. He frees his phone from the zipped pocket of his joggers and thumbs through his notifications. A message from Kacchan. Someone took a picture of him with the baby—Akane, he remembers—and Hisami. It's probably the cutest thing he's ever seen, and he fears if he looks for too long his eyes might burn out of his sockets.

Kacchan looks so soft, so incredibly sweet that Izuku can't help but smile. Izuku wonders what he could possibly be feeling, and the smile slips away like water down an open drain. He must be freaking out. Maybe he's finally realizing just how much Izuku took away from him. Izuku hopes with everything he has that he's okay, that the truce they called isn't shattered by new revelations. He can't bring himself to text back, and just as he's about to put his phone away, it starts ringing. Kacchan's name appears on his phone, and Izuku's heart gives an anticipatory squeeze.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Kacchan says. Izuku waits for more, but he's only met with silence. Izuku's curiosity immediately becomes concern.

"Is everything okay?"

"Are you busy right now?" His voice sounds tight, aggravated.

"'Course not. What's wrong?"

"I'm taking Hisami to your moms. Can we talk?"

"You're making me nervous, Katsuki," Izuku says, cold dread forming in his stomach. He feels like he's about to be dumped, or something.

"I just need to hash some shit out right now, and I don't think it'd do much if I talked to anyone but you."

That cold dread is suddenly mixing with a stupid, warm hope. He wants to smack himself for feeling special—for feeling like Kacchan wants to open up to him. Logically, he knows this is bad.

"Oh, okay. Yeah. Should I meet you somewhere?"

"I'll come to your apartment. Thanks, Izuku."

Kacchan ends the call before Izuku can muster a response. He feels like the world is about to end, which may as well happen if the peace they declared only a few days ago is about to break again. Izuku feels like his body is a maelstrom of negative emotions, but all he can do is head home and hope to shower before Kacchan brings down the hammer.

—

Deku's been on his guard since the second Katsuki used his key to the apartment. Actually, he's probably been on his guard ever since the phone call. He's nervously flitting around the apartment, tidying up and rearranging just about everything he can get his hands on. It reminds Katsuki so much of Auntie Inko that he just kind of watches it happen from the couch for a few minutes, vaguely stunned. Finally, Deku finds the wherewithal to speak.

"Do you want some tea?"

It's a placating question. A question that's less about tea and more about subtly begging Katsuki to get on with it. So, he gets on with it.

"I'm not here to scream at you, so just chill out. Sit down." Katsuki blows out a sigh, hoping it'll relieve the tension plaguing his body. It doesn't.

"What are you here to do, then?" Deku asks softly as he seats himself on the couch, as far away from Katsuki as possible.

"Fucking… talk, I guess. We never _really _talked about all this. About everything. I want to understand what you did, so I can stop feeling so…" Katsuki trails off because talking—especially talking at a normal volume—has never been his strong suit. Deku tries to help finish his sentence because that's just the kind of guy he is.

"Angry?"

"_Hurt."_ Katsuki forces the word out through clenched teeth. He hates this—talking about feelings, showing weakness. He hates that he feels weak and hurt at all, but he _needs _to get this out, to let it go. He needs to excise the wound and drain the infection, so that he might finally have a chance to heal. Deku's face crumples, and then smooths as if he's pulled his mask down. Katsuki thinks he hates that more than the crying.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he mumbles, eyes downcast.

"I know," he says because he's not ready to say _it's okay._ Not yet.

"What can I do? I'd do anything for you, Katsuki."

The sincerity of that sentence smarts. It's hard to hold back a wince. Katsuki runs a hand down his face, frustrated that he doesn't quite know where to start.

"I held Akane today. First time I've ever held something so small and fragile and… I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed with Hisami, and that there's nothing I can do to get that time back."

"I figured that's what this was about. I could tell just by looking at the picture."

"And I'm pissed because I don't know what to do to feel okay with that."

"Yeah… I honestly don't know, either. I think about it everyday. How things could've been if I'd just been honest—if I'd just asked you."

"I would've said no," Katsuki says, and the realization utterly shatters him. There's no way Katsuki would've even listened to him. He would've told Deku to fuck right off without even thinking twice about it. And Hisami wouldn't be alive, and Deku would be all alone—or at least with some other shitty kid who's not half as great as their son.

"Yeah, I know, but it's… I don't know, sometimes it's easier to think _what if_ than dwell on reality." Deku has this dreamy, somber look on his face as he picks at the loose threads on his jeans. Katsuki stares hard at Deku—at the pouting downturn in the corners of his lips, and the way he tends to hang his head just enough to hide behind his curls. He looks like a kicked puppy, and though Katsuki knows he's not the only one to ever kick Deku when he's down, he knows he might've been the worst for a long time.

"Why me?" He blurts out. He can't fathom why Deku would choose him. He's actively tried not to think about it, but something tells him he really needs to know it. Something tells him that the only way to really be okay, is to understand.

"What?" Deku looks dumbfounded for a moment, and Katsuki realizes that Deku probably never thought he'd care enough to ask.

"Why did you pick me?"

Deku squirms more than usual, trying and failing to maintain eye contact. Katsuki knows he won't lie or withhold—Deku said he'd do anything for him, so he waits with saintly patience.

"I don't think you realize how much I looked up to you, how _jealous_ I was of how easy everything seemed to come to you." Deku rubs his eyes, and Katsuki knows the tears are coming. Deku's crumpled face makes him itch, but he can handle it. He waits for Deku to pull it together.

"I knew I wanted a kid, but I was also terrified of a kid being anything like me. I've never found myself to be someone to emulate, and I wanted—I wanted my kid to be tough and confident and unshakable. I thought, maybe if he had a part of someone _like_ you, he wouldn't have to grow up like I did."

Deku is well and truly crying now, unconsciously clutching the front of his shirt, like his heart is breaking. It's hard to watch, but Katsuki waits. He couldn't speak if he tried.

"And then you were there, in front of me, and it… I was so _happy_ to see you, again. It was surreal. I got carried away, swept up in the idea of it, and I took advantage of you. I'm _sorry._ I'm never going to stop being sorry, Katsuki. Feels like I cheated to win the genetic lottery." He pauses, pulling in shaky breaths he can't seem to hold in for very long. "I know we haven't been friends for a long time… but you were my best friend, and I've never stopped wanting you back, even though I knew I didn't deserve it. I've never had anyone else like you. I never really had _anyone._ I'm so sorry—I'll never be able to say that to you enough."

Katsuki takes a second to absorb everything Deku says, to turn it over and process every facet, from his insecurity, to the way he felt—and very likely still feels—about Katsuki. He thinks of all the bullshit that's built up between them over a shared past, a mountain of misunderstandings, years of silence, and a cataclysmic decision that tilted everything he knew off its axis. He finds, as he thinks hard on everything, that he forgave Deku a long time ago for using him to father a child. He's just stubborn about grudges—stubborn about anything and everything when it comes to Deku. He loves Hisami too much to regret the chain of events that led to this moment.

"It's… it's okay, nerd." Katsuki is crying, too. He can barely speak over the lump of pain and guilt and understanding in his throat, but he can't stay silent. Not after what Deku told him. "After everything we've been through, well, at least your stupid decisions led to something great. I can't say the same for the way I've acted in the past."

It's not an apology, per se, but it holds the essence of it, and the way Deku's eyes fill with more sappy little tears tells Katsuki he knows that. Deku lunges for him, wrapping his arms around Katsuki's waist and pressing his damp, flushed face into Katsuki's chest. It takes Katsuki a moment to respond, to push aside the shock and the desire to not be touched, but when he does, he wraps Deku in his arms, and it doesn't feel wrong. He fits into him, molding seamlessly with Katsuki. It's more than physical contact. It's a meeting of the minds—confirmation that no other person in his life has seen so much of Katsuki and chosen to stick around. In turn, Katsuki sees Deku, too, every aching, abused part of him, and he regrets the part he played in hurting him so profoundly. They've always been like this—opposing forces meeting one way or another, smoothing and sanding each other down until their rough edges are softened, however unwillingly. Katsuki doesn't want to fight it anymore.

Katsuki's not quite sure where this leaves them. He's never known exactly what Deku means to him, and he's done his damnedest to avoid figuring it out. None of this feels like something people who are just friends do—the crying, the comforting, the embracing—but there's something here, a little ember of something they had when they were kids. Something Katsuki had all but forgotten, and something Deku has always been fighting to keep alive. Katsuki owes it to himself, and to Deku, to figure out what they really are to each other, if they're anything at all. For now, they're in this together, and he knows that it's right.


	32. Notice

Hello, all! ive decided to permanently move to Ao3. My stories are continued there, and I will no longer be posting on this site. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I hope to see you there! You can find me under the same username.

XO katya


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